Harry Potter and the Dark Legacy
by rshakey
Summary: Foolish boy - did you really think that evil just dies?" Torn from the simple life he desperately craves, Harry is forced to place his friends, family and the woman he loves into terrible danger again. The war is over - now it's time to fight for peace
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Legacy

As the first rays of sun began to slowly banish the shadows from the corners of his dormitory, Harry Potter battled with Voldemort yet again. The sheets of his bed were crumpled on the floor next to his bed, and he moaned in anguish, the tendons on his neck standing out vividly as he writhed and strained on the bed.

_You'll never escape me, Potter – never._

A low, incoherent mumble tricked out his mouth in response. Harry's fingers clenched and his tortured face furrowed in an expression of hatred.

_I'll poison your every chance at happiness, pollute your dreams and haunt you every night until you surrender to me._

The moans grew louder, forming words, protestations – the meaning still unclear but the passionate intent behind them clear.

_Come Harry, let me show you…_

Harry's eyes flickered under his closed lids as a series of brutal images flashed across his mind. Voldemort, victoriously lifting his lifeless body into the air, standing on the dead bodies of his friends and families.

_Look at them Harry – look at those you couldn't save._

The images flickered, became clearer. The bloody faces of Lupin, Tonks and Fred shifted into focus, their eyes wide open in horror, staring sightlessly into eternity.

Harry's back arched, his whole body stiffened as his clenched fists pounded the bed in fury. Silent tears streamed down his bruised face, his teeth bared in an pained grimace.

Dimly on the edges of his consciousness, Harry heard the sound of the dormitory door quietly opening. Footsteps crossed to his bed and a shadow fell lightly over him as the figure stood over him.

Still gripped in the nightmare, he felt a cool sensation on his forehead as a soft hand tenderly stroked his face. Slowly, his face relaxed, his fists unclenched, fingers straightening and flattening out onto the bed. Gradually, the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders became still and he exhaled, releasing the pressure within him.

Now only half asleep, he felt long hair brushing over his shoulder as the figure bent closer. Inhaling, a sweet, flowery scent filled his nostrils. Struggling to waken, his drowsy brain seemed to recognise this smell and he breathed it in greedily. Soft lips gently kissed his forehead, and an achingly familiar voice whispered, "It's over now Harry – relax, my love."

Harry's red-rimmed eyes opened, blinking blearily as the dim dormitory came into a blurry focus. His hand unconsciously reached for his glasses as he craned his neck, hoping to see his visitor. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a flash of coppery red leaving as the door closed behind him.

Tiredness overcame him, and his eyes closed again, the reaching hand falling limply over the side of the bed as he began to drift off again. Sluggishly, his brain worked through the clues about his visitor and he suddenly shot up in bed, eyes now firmly open.

"Gin-"

He stopped, wincing at the soreness in his parched throat. Fumbling for his glasses, he put them on and watched the dormitory swim into focus. It was silent, save for the soft breathing coming from Ron and Neville's beds, and otherwise deserted.

Tiredly running a hand through his tousled hair, still damp with sweat from the dream, Harry glanced around, suddenly unsure. Had he been visited in the night? He couldn't be certain, but the presence had seemed so real, the voice so tender and the touch so familiar.

Yawning widely, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as the after-effects of the battle the previous day made themselves felt on his aching body. Judging by the dim light seeping through the curtains, it was still early in the morning, but Harry had no wish to surrender himself back to the nightmare. Firmly pushing the horrific images out of the forefront of his mind, Harry reached for his robes and headed for the bathroom.

Once washed and dressed, Harry paused with one hand on the dormitory door, then quickly walked over to his bed and snatched up the Marauder's Map which lay on top of his trunk.

Opening it up, he muttered the familiar incantation and the plan of Hogwarts spread over the page, dark ink filling the worn parchment. At a glance, Harry could tell that most people were still asleep, the corridors deserted. As he had no wish to face the congratulations and praise of others, no matter how well-meant, this was just what he had hoped for.

Still watching the map, he quietly opened the door and stepped cautiously out.

As he approached the main doors to the castle, the dim light grew into beams of pinkish light as the sun rose over the horizon. Stepping out into the cool morning air, Harry took a deep, cleansing breath in as his eyes wandered over the familiar sights of the Hogwarts grounds.

As the golden rays of sun slowly illuminated the grounds more clearly, Harry's transient sense of peace was abruptly shattered. His heart twisted unpleasantly and his gorge rose as the light reflected over the white sheets laid out in endless rows by the side of the castle.

Against his will, his feet took a few tentative steps towards the rows of bodies precisely lined up and carefully covered with sheets, each one inscribed with the name of the witch or wizard who lay beneath. The meticulous organisation mockingly suggested a sense of order, at odds with the chaos and carnage which the bodies represented.

Harry's stomach lurched again as his mind screamed at the horrific sight laying before him. Unable to take his eyes from the sight, he staggered towards them, numbly tottering down the rows. So many of the names were familiar to him, each representing a memory of a life cruelly cut short.

His steps slowed, his body stiffening as he approached the bodies whose faces he had seen so recently in his dreams. Lying together, as they had lived, fought and died together, were the still figures of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks.

_It's your fault Harry. They died for you – because of you._

The mocking voice inside him seemed to carry echoes of his nightmare, but this time Harry did not fight it.

_They had a child Harry – another orphan denied the chance to know his parents. Another life ruined – and you are to blame._

Harry's knees buckled and he fell down in front of their bodies. He felt strangely empty of emotion, drained beyond the point of tears. The guilt he felt overwhelmed him and his stomach churned and rose. Taking a few staggering steps to one side, Harry vomited loudly, falling to all fours. As the heaves subsided, he spat bitterly, then wiped his mouth with his already filthy robes.

Getting hesitantly to his feet, he found himself facing the one body he had hoped not to see. The shrouded figure of Fred Weasley, so full of energy in life, lay silent and still at his feet.

_They treated you as a son, raised you as one of their own. Is this how you repay them Harry? How can you face his mother now Harry? How can you face G-_

A coarse, inarticulate cry ripped out of Harry's lips. Eyes burning red, he looked wildly around, but there was no end to the sight of still, lifeless bodies, testament to _his_ mistake, _his _actions.

Staggering away as quickly as possible, Harry ran from them, attempting to outrun his guilt. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes but he stubbornly held onto his emotions. Running blindly, uncaring of his destination, he was brought up short by the cold, hard wall of the castle.

Closing his eyes, Harry sank against the wall, hands clinging to it, body curled into a submissive ball. Lost against the towering walls of Hogwarts, the thin figure of the Boy-Who-Lived lay still and alone.

After an unknown amount of time, Harry was shaken out of his waking nightmare of bitter thoughts and self-recrimination by an unexpected sound. While he had been alone earlier in the morning, this was clearly no longer the case.

In the distance, hidden behind the curve of the high castle wall, the distinct sound of loud, angry voices could be heard. Judging from the number of voices, this was a large group of people.

Not knowing why, Harry got to his feet, instinctively checking his pocket for his wand. Running a grimy sleeve across his face, he set off towards the sound, not out of curiosity, but impelled by a vague sense of uneasiness.

As he got closer to the sound, Harry could see a large group of witches and wizards, gathered in a loose circle. Now that he was closer, he could make out snatches of their angry words.

"String 'em up, I say"

"Worse than animals, they are"

"My entire family gone – their fault"

With a sinking feeling, Harry suddenly felt he knew what – or who – these comments were aimed at, and he broke into a jog, anxiety mounting.

As he grew closer, he could see, between the legs of the angry crowd, three black-cloaked figures cowering on the ground. Forcing his way through the crowd, heedless of their harsh exclamations and sharp blows, Harry burst out into the centre of the loose circle and stopped, panting.

In front of him were three Death Eaters, none of whom he recognised. Their cloaks were ripped and torn, stained with their blood and their petrified faces looked up at Harry, recognition dawning in their eyes.

Turning to face the crowd, the ugly, angry, noise subsided, to be replaced with wondering murmurs as they too recognised the young man standing before them.

"Blimey – it's him!"

"The Chosen One"

A large, barrel-chested wizard stood forward from the crowd. Just visible on his singed cloak was the insignia of the Auror department. Clearly feeling that he should make a comment, he coughed and opened his mouth to speak.

Harry beat him to it. "What is happening here?" His voice was deceptively mild, but carried a hint of steel which immediately silenced the crowd.

The Auror blanched, his pale face whitening. Gulping, he spoke in a low voice.

"We captured these three-" He jerked his head towards the huddled Death Eaters. "trying to escape into the Forbidden Forest, and brought them back here."

Harry's bright green eyes narrowed as he stared at the large man. "I can see that, Auror…?"

The man flushed. "Auror Morris – Mr Potter".

"Auror Morris," Harry repeated flatly. "Perhaps you would be so good as to tell me why you and your – friends-" He paused to cast an eye over the assembled crowd. Very few of them could meet his gaze.

Turning back towards the bulky Auror, he continued in the same mild tone. "Why you felt the need to bring these prisoners here, rather than escorting them to the dungeon. That is where the prisoners are being kept prior to transfer to Azkaban, is it not?"

The large man flushed darker, an ugly expression appearing on his heavy features. He spoke dismissively. "Azkaban? That's a bloody holiday camp for _them_, isn't it? Get in and out any time you want!"

"He's right!"

"They need punishment – that's what!"

The shouted voices were hidden from Harry's view, far back in the crowd, but others began to nod in agreement. Harry tensed as the atmosphere became charged with violence, but still spoke in the same mild, steely, voice, this time addressing the whole crowd.

"Ah, I see. You want revenge, do you?"

The crowd shifted uneasily at this, not liking his words. A thin, blond witch near the front, dirty face still streaked with tears, replied angrily, "We want justice!"

There were nods and shouts of agreement at this, and the crowd began to surge closer. Harry's hand tensed around his wand, pulling it out from under his cloak in one smooth, practised movement.

This had the desired effect. The crowd stopped momentarily, but Harry knew their hesitation was only momentary. His stomach clenched, and a thin line of sweat began working its way down his hairline.

When he spoke, his voice betrayed none of the nervousness he felt. "Justice? Right here? Right now?" His wand arm flicked, now pointing in the general direction of the captured Death Eaters, who moaned in fear.

"That's right!"

"You should do it!"

Harry paused, appearing to consider their request. "Me?" he mused out-loud. There were general nods of assent, and the crowd came closer still.

_They have a point, you know Harry. Isn't it the least you can do for them?_

Ignoring the quiet voice inside his head, Harry squared his shoulders as he faced the crowd.

"And what then?" His voice held a hint of challenge, the steely tone becoming more apparent. "We go home and celebrate? Brag about how we murdered defenceless men and women?"

"They murdered my son! He was defenceless!"

"Aye, and my wife – our baby too!"

The voices were angry and determined, but Harry didn't react outwardly, although his mind turned at once to the only memory he had of his parents - the terrible night they faced their deaths.

When he spoke however, his voice was determined and sure. "You would do to them what they would to you? What does that make you then?"

The mob shifted and murmured again, but there was a sense of uncertainty growing now. Sensing this, Harry pressed on.

"Take a look at those white sheets over there. Can you tell who fought for us, and who for them? Haven't we seen enough violence, enough death?"

His voice broke slightly on the last word, but the effect of his words was clear to see. Several people were nodding. Some were shaking their heads, looking around as if they didn't understand how they had got here.

"A great wizard once told me that we must choose between what is right, and what is easy. It would be easy to turn our grief to anger, to lash out at those who have hurt us so badly. But would it be right?"

The murmurs of assent grew louder. At the edges of the crowd, figures shifted as if wanting to walk away, but the sound of Harry's clear, determined voice held them in place.

Clenching his wand tightly and staring intently at the crowd, with a fierce expression in his green eyes, Harry issued a challenge.

"If any of you want to take the easy path, go ahead. Try. But you will have to get past me first."

The murmurs grew wider. Some shook their heads incredulously.

"I don't believe it!"

"_He's _protecting _them"_

For a long moment, Harry stood stock-still, facing down the crowd. His battered face was stern, the sincerity of his words clear to all. They shifted again, unable to meet his bright gaze, and slowly began to back away.

Harry felt a muscle in his face twitch as the tension within began to show, but he still held his ground, holding his breath.

The crowd turned and began drifting away, shooting embarrassed, wondering glances over their shoulders as they went. The large Auror lingered, then turned as if to go. Harry's quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Auror Morris?"

The large man paled again, turning back to face Harry.

"I would like you to take these prisoners immediately to the dungeon please." Harry's voice was quiet, but the command in it was unmistakable.

The Auror nodded his head dumbly, then started to move towards the Death Eaters, who huddled on the ground. One, a small, sharp-featured woman, glared malevolently at Harry.

"Don't expect any thanks, Potter. If I had my way, I would happily have died for the Dark Lord."

Harry gave the woman a strange half-smile. "I didn't expect you to understand."

He turned on his heel and walked away, following the crowd, without looking back.

As the crowd gradually dispersed, Harry wandered aimlessly, uncaring of his destination. His hands were shaking with tension, and he stuffed them in his pockets, conscious that there were still eyes upon him.

Reaching the edge of the crowd, he looked up and was brought to a sudden, crashing halt.

Standing before him in a tight group were the Weasleys, with Hermione at Ron's side. Harry's heart seemed to turn to stone as he saw the people he called family staring intently at him. They had clearly been waiting, and had heard every word he had spoken.

His face flushed with shame and he looked down at his feet, unable to meet their eyes.

_How can you face his mother now Harry? How can they possibly forgive you for the death of their son, their brother, their friends?_

The small internal voice was back, dripping with restrained fury. Harry shuddered, still intent on the ground. Hermione's quiet, clear voice interrupted his inner turmoil.

"Harry?"

Slowly, battling his inner demons every inch of the way, Harry raised his head, forcing himself to look at the concerned faces of his oldest friends.

Ron and Hermione were standing very closely together. Harry noticed inconsequentially that they appeared to be holding hands. Both looked pale and drawn, with cuts and bruises marking their faces.

Ron cleared his throat, and spoke. "Are you alright mate? We didn't know where you were until Nearly Headless Nick said he'd seen you by…" His voice trailed off as he made a vague half-gesture in the direction of the rows of white sheets.

Harry nodded slightly, not trusting himself to speak. In the back of his mind, he noted Ron's use of 'mate', but discounted it immediately. It doesn't mean anything, he told himself fiercely.

By a colossal effort of will, he shifted his eyes to look at Percy and George, who stood next to Ron. Percy had clearly made a half-hearted effort to tidy himself up, but his collar was crumpled and his tie askew. George – Harry couldn't bring himself to look at him and he quickly looked on, drawing in a sudden intake of breath as he found his eyes locked with the chocolate brown eyes of Molly Weasley. A random thought crossed his mind; they looked just like-. He stopped himself with a shake of his head.

"Harry?" said Mrs Weasley, her brow furrowed in concern. Her face was chalk white, and she appeared to only be standing with the support of Mr Weasley's arm holding her tightly around the waist. Harry's heart felt as if it were shattering into a thousand pieces as he saw her expression. How can she still care, when Fred-?

The internal voice had nothing to say.

Harry dragged his eyes away from her, looking into the grave face of Mr Weasley. Without his normal cheerful expression, he looked curiously different – almost a stranger. Only a softness in his eyes gave away his thoughts as he gave Harry a small nod.

Encouraged, Harry nodded back, and before his courage failed him altogether, he forced himself to look at the one person he desperately craved, and feared, seeing.

Ginny Weasley stared back at Harry with an unreadable expression on her pale face. Even in the midst of his turmoil, Harry couldn't help but notice how her glorious red hair framed her perfect face, and his heart skipped a beat. His mind recalled the presence in his room that morning – could it possibly have been her?

Looking again at her, could now see cracks in her controlled façade. Her puffy eyes bore the unmistakable signs of crying and there were faint, half-dried tear-tracks down her cheeks. Harry's shattered heart seemed to splinter into tiny shards of ice as he thought about what she must be going through right now.

_She'll never forgive you Harry. Her brother – never…_

Feeling as if his feet had been Transfigured into stone blocks, Harry took a tentative step towards Ginny. He had to know, regardless of the consequences.

Ginny flinched at his movement, tears starting in her eyes. With a sob, she tore herself away from the comforting arm of her father and ran towards the lake, ignoring the despairing calls of her family to return.

Harry's veins froze and his knees threatened to give way again. Whirling round in his confused mind was the same thought, repeated over and over again.

_It's over._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Facing the Weasleys

Harry Potter stood frozen to the spot. The cogs of his mind seemed to stutter and catch, grinding together in a cacophony of shearing thoughts and emotions. He looked up to see Ginny's running figure disappear over the brow of the hill as it dropped down towards the lake, and it kick-started his mind, clearing the confusion momentarily. With a sudden jerk, he started after her, slowly at first, but beginning to build momentum.

His path was abruptly blocked by the figures of Mr and Mrs Weasley. Confusedly drawing to a halt, Harry looked blankly at them.

"Harry?"

Mrs Weasley's voice was tentative, almost shy. Harry didn't respond. He didn't know how to.

"Harry?"

The concern in Mrs Weasley's voice was shocking to Harry. He looked directly at Mrs Weasley, unable to comprehend her emotions towards him.

She returned his gaze, her mouth working as she struggled to frame the right words to get through to him. Deciding that this was a time when actions spoke louder than words, she stepped forward, her arms encircling him, intending to draw him into a hug.

"No!"

Harry's reaction was explosive. Jerking away from her grasp, he took a stumbling step back before falling backwards onto the ground.

Mrs Weasley froze in confusion as Harry drew up his knees, holding them tight to his chest with his arms and hiding his face from sight on top of them. Her heart ached as she recognised the defensive posture of a scared child and she took another determined step forward, crouching down to his level, just as she had to her children when they were younger. Reaching out a tentative hand, she placed it under his chin, slowly lifting his head to meet her gaze.

"I – I don't deserve it"

Harry's voice was strained and broken – so different to when he had spoken to the crowd a few short minutes before. His shoulders were hunched as if he expected to receive a blow, and Mrs Weasley spoke carefully, aware that he was delicately balanced between grief and despair.

"What makes you think that, Harry?"

He pulled his head away from her, hiding it in his arms again and drawing his knees even closer to his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled by his arms, but carried closely to the nearby Weasleys, who had gathered round, screening him from the view of curious spectators.

"It's my – I'm to – If I hadn't"

He stopped unable to go on. When he finally spoke again, the misery and pain in his voice was plain for all to hear.

"If Fred – hadn't followed me – If I hadn't asked-"

"Bollocks!"

Everyone jumped nervously at the sudden angry interruption. George stepped forward, tears streaming down his face, and dropped besides Harry. He spoke again, but more softly this time.

"Bollocks Harry."

Mrs Weasley shot George a look, and he flinched slightly under her gaze. "I'm sorry, mum, but it is."

He slid towards Harry and slung his arm over Harry's hunched shoulders, ignoring his involuntary flinch.

"No-one makes Fred-" He paused for a moment,swallowing, then continued. "No-one could ever make Fred do anything he didn't want to Harry. He lived his life as a free spirit, and he died defending that freedom."

George's voice choked on the word 'died', and Harry lifted his head, listening intently.

"I heard what you said to those people. We all did. Fred made that choice you talked about – between what was easy and what was right. It was right to fight for our family and friends – it was right to die for their freedom."

Harry's eyes were shining with tears as he looked around the gathered circle of his family, who nodded and made soft noises of agreement.

Mr Weasley spoke softly. "Go on George – he needs to hear this."

George nodded, then continued. "We all loved Fred dearly Harry – including you – and he loved us too. You know that, right?"

Slowly, reluctantly, Harry nodded his head.

"Well, if we loved Fred for the way in which he lived his life, we have to love him for the way he chose to meet his death. His choice Harry. Not mine, not yours, not V-Voldemort's."

Harry looked up at the concerned faces surrounding him, and felt as if something hard and rocky were cracking inside of him, beginning to release the emotions he had held at bay all morning.

George, sensing this, pressed on. "You are not to blame Harry. Fred didn't die because of you."

Hermione stepped closer, a solitary tear sliding down her cheek. "Or Lupin"

"Or Tonks," Ron croaked, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Or any of them Harry," said Percy, throwing a brotherly arm over Ron's shoulders.

Inside Harry, the cracks grew wider as he stared around at circle of friends – of family. His eyes settled on Mrs Weasley, who smiled warmly at Harry and spoke for all of them.

"We love you Harry – welcome home."

The rock inside Harry shattered and he flung himself into her arms, sobbing hoarsely. She cradled him as she would a new-born baby, whispering softly to him as his aching heart emptied all the terror and loneliness of the last year and he cried in painful, wracking convulsions of grief.

When the tears finally subsided, Harry pulled gently away, wiping the tears from his face with his grimy hand. With Percy and George helping, he got slowly to his feet, and exhaled shakily with a sob.

Hermione's warm hand slid into his, squeezing. He looked at her, managing a weak smile, and brushed away her tears with his free hand. "Not you too, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, for once at a loss for words.

The other Weasleys approached now, headed by Ron, who pulled Harry into a bear hug, slapping his back. "We did it mate – it's over," he said with an attempt at his former cheeriness as he stepped back.

Harry nodded wanly. "We did – didn't we?"

Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly. "We certainly did – together"

Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a long look with each other. No further words were needed.

Now that the storm of emotions had passed, Harry felt a strange sense of calm coming over him. He walked towards the other Weasleys, who had taken a few steps back, stopping in front of George.

"I'm sorry about Fred, George. You're right though – about all of it"

George nodded painfully, putting on a brave face. "Of course I am Harry – when aren't I?"

Harry forced a laugh, gripping his shoulder tightly. George nodded, and Harry moved on to Mrs Weasley.

"Mrs Weasley-" he started.

"Hush Harry dear. I know. We all do."

Not trusting himself for words, Harry looked around, his eyes straying towards the brow of the hill where Ginny had disappeared from sight. Following his gaze, Mrs Weasley gave a half-smile.

"She missed you terribly last year Harry. We all did, of course, but her especially."

Harry looked closely at Mrs Weasley. She knew – of course she did.

"I missed her too, Mrs Weasley. I thought about her – every day."

Mrs Weasley beamed and nodded, before becoming more serious. "She needs to hear that Harry – from you."

Harry straightened up. Mrs Weasley was right, of course, but where to begin? So much had happened to him – to both of them – since the last time they were together that they hardly seemed to be the same people any more.

Reading his look of doubt, Mr Weasley, who had been silent so far, spoke up. "Harry, Ginny cares for you a great deal – that much is obvious. And it's clear that you feel the same."

Harry flushed with embarrassment, but then straightened and looked directly at Mr Weasley. "I do, sir."

Mr Weasley nodded his approval at Harry's plain speaking, then sighed and carried on.

"She's going to be very angry at you Harry. From her point of view, you left her without any hope or expectation for the future. She didn't know if you would ever meet again, but she waited anyway."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Weasley held up a hand and he fell silent. "Yes Harry, I know your reasons, and for what it's worth, I thank you for your care and concern for my daughter. What I'm trying – very poorly – to explain is how it feels for her."

Mrs Weasley shot her husband a loving look. "Go on Arthur – you know I'll correct you if you get it wrong."

Mr Weasley chuckled, then continued. "After all those months living in fear, you suddenly came back into her life – only a few days ago. And then just as suddenly you were gone – this time, it appeared, forever."

Behind Harry, Hermione let out a muffled sob. Harry half-turned to see her face buried in Ron's shoulder.

Mr Weasley's face softened as he looked over Harry's shoulder. "Yes, well, I think Hermione illustrates my point exactly. We all thought we had lost you – and now here you are, literally back from the dead!"

Harry considered Mr Weasley's words carefully. He could see now how enormously difficult the last year had been for Ginny. When he had broken off his relationship with her, his only thought had been for her safety. When he had walked through the Forest to face Voldemort, he had held his head high knowing that his actions would hopefully keep her safe. But Mr Weasley's perspective had made him aware that, in some ways, Ginny had faced the harder journey. At least Harry had known the full reasons behind his actions, while she had – necessarily – been left out.

The others watched silently as Harry's expressive face showed all too clearly the intense thought and conflicting emotions he felt. Finally, his frown cleared and he drew himself up, a strange light shining in his eyes.

"Thank you Mr Weasley, that helped. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's someone I need to see."

Breaking into a run, he disappeared over the hill, heading for the lake.

The Weasleys and Hermione watched him go in silence, smiling at each other.

"Good luck mate!" called Ron. Harry gave a half wave without turning as he vanished out of sight.

"You'll need it!" said George, more quietly, with a chuckle.

Percy sidled up to George and quietly whispered, "Ten Galleons says he comes back covered with Bat Bogies".

George eyed his formerly straight-laced brother with a speculative look. Sticking out his hand, he whispered back, "Fifteen, and you're on."

The brothers nodded and shook hands, while Mrs Weasley wisely pretended not to have heard.

****

Dropping down the other side of the hill, Harry drew to a halt as he looked over the shore of the lake, hoping to see where Ginny had gone. Letting his feet carry him without thought, he wandered down nearer to the lake, following the shoreline to his left.

Across the lake in the far distance, the darkening sky seemed to indicate a storm arriving. Hoping that it wasn't an omen of his upcoming meeting, Harry quickened his pace, breaking out into a run again.

Just as he was beginning to doubt his instincts, he saw a flash of red against the background of the trees overlooking the lake. As he got his bearings, he realised that this was the obvious place to have looked. Their tree.

In those short, precious, shining months that he and Ginny had spent together, they had spent many happy hours leaning against the tree. He smiled as he recalled the afternoons they had spent talking and laughing together, or (his face grew warm as he recalled this) engaged in other pursuits entirely.

As he approached the tree, Harry slowed as his former certainty faltered. Ginny was leaning against the tree, her knees drawn up and her face buried in her arms. Much like I was earlier, thought Harry ruefully.

Hearing his footsteps, Ginny glanced up. Her face clouded over and she buried her head in her arms again. Harry's stomach lurched as he stopped at what he considered a safe distance. Clearing his throat, he attempted to say her name. What came out was a high-pitched gurgling.

Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Ginny?"

There was a small twitch in the curtain of red hair, but otherwise no response.

Tentatively, Harry walked closer.

"Ginny?"

This time Ginny didn't move.

Feeling slightly stupid, Harry walked even closer. Crouching next to her, he slowly reached out his hand, and drew the curtain of her hair back, hoping to see her face.

Afterwards, Harry would admit that he should have known better – he caught a brief flash of fiery brown eyes glaring at him and suddenly found himself flat on his back, staring at the wrong end of a suddenly screaming Ginny's wand.

"How could you? How _could_ you?"

Confused, Harry attempted to frame a reply, but was cut short by the sharp prod of Ginny's wand in his chest as her tirade continued without interruption.

"Left me with nothing! Expected me to wait! Too busy saving the world!"

Ginny's voice had reached a screech so loud that birds exploded from the trees around the lake in their haste to escape.

Spluttering, Harry tried to defend himself, "Gin-"

"Don't you _dare_ 'Gin' me, Potter! You think you can just waltz back into my life, look at me like _that_ and get away with it? Think again mister!"

Harry lay defenceless on the ground as her furious eyes bore into his. Confusedly, he remembered that there was something he had to say. Something important.

As Ginny hitched in a breath, ready to let loose again, Harry seized his opportunity and quickly shouted, "Ginny – I'm sorry!"

Ginny started, and Harry continued. "I've spoken to your parents. I know how it was for you."

Ginny's eyes flashed, but her voice trembled as she replied.

"You have no idea how it was for me. Every day, I scanned the papers, hoping for news. I watched the sky, praying for a message. One letter Harry. One stupid bloody letter - I'm okay', or 'I'm still alive'. Was that too much to ask?"

She leaned backwards, sitting on his outstretched legs, her hand shaking as she continued to point her wand at Harry's face. Cautiously, Harry sat up, resting on his elbows.

His heart ached at he took a good look at Ginny. She looked thinner, paler, even smaller than he remembered. Even more fragile and delicate. Yet her eyes still glowed with the fierce, fiery expression he remembered, and surely – surely – they could find a way through this.

Knowing that he would only get once chance to set things right, he voiced his next words with care.

"I thought about you – every day. Wondered what you were doing, how you were. I even watched you most nights with the Marauder's Map. I used to stare at that small dot with your name and wish that there was some way of getting a message to you – a safe way. But there wasn't. And as much as I wanted to let you know I was okay, I couldn't take that risk. You were – are – too important to me for that."

Ginny's eyes had not left Harry throughout his speech, and Harry thought he detected a slight softening in her fierce glare. When she finally spoke, her tone of voice was entirely different.

"I knew that Harry – really. It was just so h-h-hard-"

Her voice cracked and a tear trickled down her face. Harry reached up to wipe it away, only to find himself flat on his back again as her fury raged once more.

"I thought you were dead. You died Harry. You walked into that forest without a word. Didn't you care at all?"

Harry's face flushed with anger at her words. She had no idea of how hard it had been to walk past her under his Invisibility Cloak and not say a word. Suddenly he was sat up again and shouting, his voice now matching hers.

"Do you think that was easy? Do you? I walked _right_ past you Ginny, under my cloak. I thought I was gone forever, but I knew that if I let you know – if I stopped to speak – I could never, ever-" Harry's voice broke now and tears shimmered in his eyes at the thought of trying to say goodbye to her.

Ginny's hands had flown to her mouth as he had spoken, and her eyes had lost their former fieriness, to be replaced with a hollow emptiness that tore at Harry's heart.

Trying to ignore the urge to gather her into his arms and kiss her, he continued. She had to hear this – she needed to understand. His voice dropped to a whisper as he spoke brokenly.

"When I faced him – when he raised his wand and I knew – I knew I was as good as dead-"

Ginny opened her mouth to interrupt, and this time Harry stopped her, gently placing a finger on her lips.

"I did it for everyone – to save them, that's true. But the last thing I thought of before – well as he-"

Harry took a deep breath, attempting to control his wayward emotions. Ginny watched him without speaking, her eyes now shining. Clearing his throat, Harry ground out the hardest words of all.

"When Voldemort killed me, the last thing I thought of – was you Ginny. It's always been you."

Ginny's chest hitched as a low sob escaped her lips. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and Harry felt a wetness on his cheeks, telling him that he was crying too. This time, when he raised his hand to wipe away her tears she let him, then captured his hand with her own.

"Harry – oh Harry. I-"

Ginny's voice abruptly stopped as she looked over his shoulder, towards the lake. A look of absolute horror crossed her face as she fell backwards, gasping for breath.

Scrambling to his feet, Harry tried to turn, but it felt as if he were moving in slow motion. His body suddenly felt drained of all energy. The plants wilted around him and a dark shadow loomed over both of them.

Turning to face the lake, Harry heard the cracking sound of the lake freezing, and knew, even before he raised his eyes to the sky, what he would see.

He was right.

Dementors.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – About bloody time, Potter

The Dementors swooped down out of the dark cloud overhead. Belatedly Harry realised that what he had taken for storm clouds were, in fact, Dementors. All of them, it looked like.

His knees gave way as the familiar numbing sensation crept over his skin and burrowed deeply inside him. His mind whirled crazily – there must be hundreds – no, thousands of them. He never knew there could be so many.

A distant screaming reached his ears. He tried to tell himself that it was the memory of his mother's death, but he knew that the terrible high-pitched noise was coming from him. He collapsed onto the ground, writhing in agony as the Dementors approached.

"Harry!"

No use to fight – the darkness inside swelled, taking him with it. After all he had seen, after all he had done; some part of him welcomed blissful oblivion.

"Harry!"

His eyes snapped open. Ginny. With a titanic effort, he pulled himself to his knees, pawing in his pocket for his wand. Thrusting it out in front of him without looking, he pulled together his fractured thoughts and screamed, "Expecto Patronum!"

A white silvery glow spread from the end of his wand, and for a moment Harry saw the large shape of his stag Patronus standing on the shore. As the crushing weight of the combined Dementor attack fell on him, the light flickered and disappeared.

"Expecto – Expecto – Expec-"

Behind him he could hear Ginny valiantly trying to summon her Patronus, but it was no use. The dark cloud of Dementors swooped down over them and the foetid smell of rotten breath fell over him.

Dimly he could hear a scraping sound, as if someone were dragging something towards him. He giggled crazily as the light dimmed – a present? For me? You shouldn't have.

There was a roaring in his ears, a ringing inside his head. Ginny, he thought, Ginny.

A cool hand slipped into his, and a voice spoke in his ear.

"Harry"

Instantly his head cleared and his eyes swept open. The roaring sound cut off at once and the Dementors overhead seemed frozen in mid-air. Filling his vision was Ginny's exquisite face, her porcelain skin, her dark brown eyes.

"Harry?"

He nodded feebly, unable to take his eyes from hers.

"I love you Harry Potter. Now get up and let's finish this – together."

Fireworks exploded inside his mind and his body suddenly felt filled – no, overflowing, with a burning white energy. A moment ago, he couldn't move, but now he rose effortlessly to his feet, still holding onto Ginny's hand.

As one, they raised their wands to the sky, and as they spoke, the echo of their voices cracked the frozen lake into tiny pieces.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

A blinding white light shot out of both wands, brighter than a thousand suns, but cool and refreshing to their skin. Their Patronuses leapt into the sky, enormous and fiery with white heat. Harry and Ginny watched in stunned amazement as their white-hot Patronuses burned straight through the Dementors, igniting their trailing robes before exploding them in a burst of fiery light.

The Dementors scattered with an unearthly wailing sound, but they couldn't outrun Ginny and Harry's spell. Splitting up, the two Patronuses dived headlong into the seething mass of Dementors, disappearing out of sight.

Harry felt his breath catch – had they been extinguished? Ginny cried out, "Look!" as a thin beam of white light speared out of the side of the mass, quickly followed by more and more. The huge ball of Dementors bulged once, then fell in on itself as a tidal wave of energy exploded, churning up the water and racing towards the shore.

Harry flinched, half-turning and raising his arm in a feeble attempt to protect them. After a moment, he realised that nothing had happened and slowly lowered his arm.

Standing facing them on the shore were their Patronuses. The sky behind them was clear and calm with no trace of cloud.

The Dementors had vanished.

Shaking his head in awestruck wonder, Harry pulled Ginny gently towards the Patronuses. His stag approached at once, lowering its mighty head for Harry to touch. Gingerly reaching out his hand, he stroked the long snout, marvelling at the sensation.

Ginny's Patronus trotted up, rubbing its head along the flank of Harry's stag in an affectionate gesture. The stag responded, nuzzling Ginny's Patronus gently.

Harry's jaw dropped open as he closely examined the two Patronuses. His stag was as he remembered, but Ginny's-

"Ginny," he whispered softly, "Wasn't your Patronus a horse?"

The creature in front of him was similar in size to a small horse, but it was clearly not the Patronus Harry had seen her cast many times in the past.

Glancing at Ginny, he saw to his surprise that there was a faint red glow on her cheeks.

"Well," she began, "It used to be – yes. But over the last year, what with me thinking about you so much, missing you – it, er, seems to have changed."

She blushed deeper.

Harry stepped closer to her Patronus. He recognised it, of course. After all, he had known one other person with the same Patronus.

Ginny's Patronus was now a doe.

"Wow," he said, giving Ginny a sideways glance. "You must have really missed me." He laughed, enjoying her discomfort, then cried out in pain as she punched his arm.

"Ah, that hurt! Who taught you to punch like that?"

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously. "Family full of brothers Harry – remember? Now leave it!"

Rubbing the sore patch on his arm, Harry nodded his head briefly, before turning back to their Patronuses, who seemed content to stay for a while.

"How on earth…" His voice trailed off. Ginny looked up at him, equally amazed. He turned back to the Patronuses.

"Thank you. I don't know how – but thank you."

Harry's stag bowed his head, and with the doe following, trotted off over the lake, dissolving into the night air.

Suddenly conscious of Ginny's small hand still in his, he looked down at her, to see her looking up at him with that familiar fiery expression.

"Ginny," he breathed, bending his head towards her.

"Harry," she muttered, inclining hers towards his, with parted lips.

His heart thudded loudly as he bent closer towards her, feeling her warm breath on his skin, wanting nothing more than to lose-

"Harry!"

"Ginny!"

"Thank goodness you're okay"

"We were worried about you, mate!"

Ginny and Harry were swept off their feet by an avalanche of Weasleys, with Hermione in tow. Harry felt dizzy as arms hugged him tight and questions were fired at him from all angles. How many Weasleys were there again?

Hermione was bouncing up and down on her toes, clearly excited, and gabbling at full speed.

"I've never heard of Patronuses destroying Dementors Harry – have you? I mean, I've been through most of the books on the subject and no-one has ever summoned ones like that. Even Dumbledore-"

"Enough!" bellowed Harry. There was a sudden shocked silence.

"If you don't mind, I was in the middle of something just then."

And folding her into his arms, Harry Potter kissed Ginny Weasley in front of her entire family.

Time seemed to stand still again. Harry swore that he could hear the individual beats of a hummingbird's wings nearby, feel the wind blowing gently through the individual blades of grass on the shore. The world fell away from them and nothing had any meaning any more – just the feel of Ginny's lips upon his and-

"Ha-hum!"

The sound of an exasperated Mr Weasley clearing his throat bought them back to reality. As the couple drew apart, Harry's face flamed red as he took in the bemused expressions on their faces. Ron looked at if he had been Stupified, George was doubled over with laughter and Percy's wand dropped out of his suddenly nerveless hand without him noticing, an expression of absolute astonishment on his face.

Harry felt his face growing even hotter. So this is what it feels like to be a phoenix on burning day, he thought distractedly, hoping for a sudden Dementor attack, a cave troll – anything – to take attention away from them.

"Erm," began Harry, scarcely knowing what to say. "I'm-"

Whatever the next part of that sentence was, or might have been was never discovered as Ginny grabbed his face and pulled him in for another searing kiss. All thought vanished as Harry floated away on soft clouds.

When she finally pulled away, Harry almost fell over before regaining his balance. Incapable of thought, word or action he just stood there with a stupidly vacant smile plastered over his face.

There was stunned silence for a long moment.

"Well-" began Mrs Weasley.

"Not a word, mother," snapped Ginny. She rounded on her brothers. "Ronald, Percy, _George_ – not a word."

As George was still struggling to stop laughing, this was hardly fair, but one look at her fierce expression made Harry hold his thoughts on that matter.

Ginny glared at Percy, who looked away quickly, before settling her eyes on Ron.

"Get used to it, Ronald," she snapped in a voice that would have even made Mrs Weasley quake.

Ron gulped, an expression of shock still upon his face. Harry watched him closely – it was important for him that Ron understood. He didn't need his permission, but for some stupid reason he felt like Ron's blessing was needed. Of course, he kept this thought to himself as well.

Slowly, Ron's epression subtly changed from shock to what Harry hoped was acceptance, until finally settling on mirth.

"_Nice_ timing mate," he chortled with glee, casting his eyes over the assembled ranks of his family. This was enough to set George off again, and the laughter spread around the gathered group until they were all roaring with laughter. Even Harry found himself smiling as he replied,

"Coming from the guy who snogged Hermione just before a battle, I'll take that as a compliment."

Ron and Hermione's faces glowed bright red as the Weasleys roared with laughter again.

"Nice one Harry!" cackled George ecstatically. "Fred would have loved that!"

Harry grinned easily at George. "Yeah – he would, wouldn't he?"

Feeling at peace with the world, if only for a while, Harry and Ginny linked hands and slowly followed the still-laughing group towards Hogwarts.

Lagging behind the group, Harry considered the events by the lake as he idly swung Ginny's arm as they walked. Ginny seemed content to walk in silence, and as Harry glanced at her, she also seemed deep in thought.

He still couldn't make sense of the Dementor attack. Where had so many Dementors come from, and why wait until after the battle to attack? Harry shuddered as he thought of the casualties that could have been inflicted by so many Dementors.

Still, he thought, his mood lightening, at least he was unlikely to see any Dementors any time soon after the beating they took today. He wasn't even sure if any escaped the wrath of their Patronus charm.

A low whistle escaped his lips as he recalled the incredible power of their Patronuses. What was it Hermione had said – not even Dumbledore could have done it?

Ginny looked up enquiringly at his whistle, but Harry smiled and shrugged, and she looked away again.

Harry suddenly stopped walking, his mouth going dry, and his heart racing. Ginny! He'd forgotten her words to him down at the lake – the ones which gave him the power to stand against the Dementor onslaught.

"_I love you Harry Potter. Now get up and let's finish this – together."_

His jaw sagged. _I love you Harry Potter_. She loved him! Dazedly, he recalled her changed Patronus, her terrifying rage when they fought – it all made sense now.

Ginny stood looking at him with a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Just remembered, have you Harry?"

She looked relaxed enough, but there was an anxious expression in her eyes and she unknowingly bit her lip as she waited for his response.

"Ginny-" began Harry nervously.

"Harry?"

"Down by the lake – in the middle of the attack – you said something to me."

Ginny smiled playfully, but her hand tugged nervously at a strand of her long red hair.

"I remember Harry – what of it?"

Harry gulped for air, then, half hopeful, half fearful, asked the question upon which he was pinning his future dreams of happiness.

"Did – did you mean it?"

Ginny's eyes softened, and she reached up to touch Harry's cheek lightly.

"Of course I did Harry." She smiled mischievously as she echoed his words from earlier, but the look in her eyes expressed her depth of feeling. "It's always been you, Harry."

Inside Harry, tectonic plates shifted and locked into place. His nervousness dropped away as an overwhelming sense of rightness washed over him.

"I love you too Ginny. I love you so much."

Ginny's eyes shone with happiness and she snaked her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

"About bloody time, Potter," she murmured as her lips moulded themselves to his. Their kiss was softer this time, less passionate but full of certainty and a delicious promise for the future.

They drew apart, both gasping for breath. As they stared into each other's eyes, both felt that a solemn promise had been made. Breaking the mood, Ginny giggled as she reached for Harry's hand.

"Come on you – let's get some food. I'm starving."

Harry laughed lightly, feeling as if he were floating on air. He entwined his fingers with Ginny's and pulled her towards the castle.

"Well, you certainly are a Weasley – that's for sure."

"And don't you forget it Potter."

They laughed in unison, giddy with happiness, as they slowly wandered down the path to Hogwarts, oblivious to the faint white glow which was emanating from their joined hands in soft pulsating waves.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – A time to grieve, a time to move on

By the time that they had made their way towards the Great Hall, Harry and Ginny were alone. The walk back to the castle had been slow as they nudged each other, grinning happily. Harry, still reeling from their earlier kiss, bounded up the stairs to the main doors with a spring in his step.

Turning at the top, he raised his fists in a mock salute of triumph, his green eyes shining with joy.

Ginny giggled as she launched herself into his arms, nuzzling up to his chest and sighing happily as his strong arms closed protectively around her. Harry gazed down at her and she looked up, meeting his gaze.

In his face, she saw a new Harry emerging – free from the shadow he had unconsciously carried since she had known him. There was a sense of playfulness and lightness in his expression that she had never seen before – even in those precious stolen moments last year. Her lips curved in a tender smile as she decided that she rather liked this new Harry – the one that only she got to see.

Dipping his face towards hers, Harry brushed her lips lightly with this own. Ginny shuddered lightly at the warm sensation.

His voice whispered softly in her ear, "Are you _sure_ you need to eat, my love?"

Ginny gasped at his warm breath tickling her ear. "What else did you have in mind Harry?" she breathed playfully.

Harry's face warmed slightly as his mind flickered through a series of images that would have made even a werewolf's fur stand on end. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "Oh – this and that," he replied, matching her playful tone. _That_ was a conversation for another time, he thought, his face reddening further.

Ginny, her face strangely flushed, kissed him lingeringly, then pulled away, one hand playing nervously with a strand of hair.

"Food?" she reminded him, her voice slightly higher than usual.

Harry smiled. "Food," he agreed.

Walking through the entrance hall, they approached the Great Hall and casually pushed the door open.

A thousand heads turned immediately in their direction. There was an almighty scraping of chairs as, in unison, the assembled witches and wizards stood facing them.

Harry felt his face bursting into flames of embarrassment as a voice from the back of the hall cried out, "Good on you, Harry!"

The lone voice was quickly joined by others and there was a sound like rolling thunder as a tidal wave of applause, cheers and whoops washed over the hall.

Harry cringed, his feet taking an involuntary step backwards. Ginny's hand grabbed his fiercely, and her soft voice whispered calming words of support into his ear. Rigid with embarrassment, Harry jerked his head in a brief nod, panic rising within him.

"Speech!"

"Speech!"

A chant built up around the room, as others joined the call for Harry to speak. Harry's face froze, going from bright red to deathly pale in an instant. Had someone just hit him with a Jelly Legs Jinx, he wondered wildly, as his legs threatened to give way.

Tearing his hand from Ginny's, he lunged for the door, opened it and shot through. He managed a couple of tottering steps before his legs gave way from underneath him, pitching him head-first onto the cold stone floor.

In an instant, Ginny was beside him, a comforting hand rubbing his back.

"Just breathe, Harry – nice and slow"

Harry's breath was coming in great juddering gasps. His vision was tinged with pink and a whirling dizziness swept over him.

A small hand pressed to his forehead, and a wave of summer flower scent washed over him. "Nice and slow, my love – that's right."

As his breath slowed, the blurred pink vision receded and Harry shifted to sit more comfortably, his head hanging between his knees.

"S-sorry Gin", he croaked, exhaling explosively as the last of the panic left his body. "I don't know what came over me." He looked tentatively up at Ginny, who was kneeling beside him, one hand still rubbing his back. A sudden wave of fear entered his mind – would she think he was an idiot, panicking like that?

Ginny bobbed her head understandingly. "Nothing to apologise for Harry," she said softly, gazing sympathetically into his eyes.

"It – I wasn't expecting that," muttered Harry, a vague sense of shame rising within him.

Ginny sank down to sit more comfortably at his side, her arm looping over his shoulders. She rested her head against his arm. "Me neither, but we should have."

She hesitated, her eyes darting to his face. Harry nodded encouragingly, curious to know her meaning.

"Harry," she began slowly. "Do you even know what a hero you are to those people?"

Harry shook his head furiously, trying to drown out her words. "I'm no hero Ginny – just some stupid git who got lucky, that's all. I nearly always had help and – let's face it – I died."

He lowered his head, unable to meet her bright eyes. "Some hero," he muttered disconsolately.

Ginny felt a surge of sympathy for Harry as he hung his head in denial. Why did he never see himself as others did? It seemed so strange to her – but then she had been raised in a loving family, secure in their affection, while he-

Her eyes narrowed as she recalled Ron's voice telling her the story of their escape mission at the start of their second year.

_They were starving him Ginny – bars on the window, locks on the door. They fed him through a cat-flap…_

Pulling herself even more closely to Harry, she stroked the hair back from his forehead, her fingers lightly grazing the livid lightning scar. He was scarred in so many ways, she thought – not all were visible.

"Harry," she started again. Harry's face lifted, a miserable expression on his face as he looked at her.

"I know that you don't feel like a hero – but believe me, you are. To all those witches and wizards in there, and across the world."

Harry's face burned with embarrassment, and he looked away. Putting one hand to his cheek, Ginny gently pulled his head back, locking her chocolate brown eyes on his.

"For better or for worse, that's how they see you. They _need_ that, Harry. Something to hold on to – some_one_ to embody their hopes and dreams for the future."

Harry's voice was cracked and strained as he spoke, so softly that she could barely hear him as he voiced his deepest fear. "But what if I don't – can't – live up to that Ginny?" His eyes were wide, his expression vulnerable.

Stroking his cheek softly, Ginny paused for a moment, considering, before replying. "Do you remember what you told that crowd this morning?"

It took Harry a few seconds to recall – the events of that morning seemed an age ago. He nodded slightly.

"Well, that choice you told them about – it goes for you too."

His brow furrowed as he silently considered her words. Ginny continued, pushing home her advantage.

"You could turn your back on them Harry – Merlin knows, you've done enough. No-one would blame you. Well-"

"Other than myself, you mean." Harry's voice was slightly firmer, his tone more confident. He rubbed his eyes wearily underneath his glasses, then sighed and straightened up. He smiled grimly, turning to Ginny.

"When did you get so wise, Weasley?"

Ginny bumped him lightly with her shoulder. "Always was, Potter. You were just too dim to notice."

Harry chuckled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Slowly getting to his feet, he reached out a hand to help Ginny up. "Time to face the fans, I guess." His voice attempted lightness, but his expression was still worried.

Rising up, Ginny held on to his hand, capturing his other hand in hers. Her eyes flamed with passion as she stared intently at him, every part of her body and soul put into her next words.

"You're not alone Harry. You may be the Chosen One, but you're _my_ chosen one as well. And I'll stand by you. Now. Forever"

Harry blinked as a soft white glow seemed to surround Ginny, bathing her in a warm light. It was gone in an instant, and he paused, puzzled. Ginny was still staring at him with the same fierce expression and he lost himself in the deep pool of her eyes.

"Ginny," he whispered.

She didn't reply, but continued to fix him with the same look.

"I'll stand by you too," he murmured, certainty flooding through his body as he spoke.

She cocked her head to one side, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"For now?"

"Forever," Harry corrected softly. He pulled her into a gentle kiss, their eyes closing so that both missed the sudden blaze of light which briefly lit up the dim hallway.

Feeling bolstered beyond words by her support, Harry turned, squared his shoulders, and strode resolutely to the doors, Ginny by his side.

The excited chatter which had continued since his abrupt departure rose in pitch as he entered. As applause threatened to break out again, Harry stepped forward, lifting his hands in a request for quiet.

The buzzing died down as all eyes turned expectantly upon Harry. He looked over them, suddenly at a loss for words. His eyes scanned the ranks, stopping when he saw the cluster of red-heads which signified the Weasleys. Even in the midst of his rising panic, Harry noted that Bill and Fleur had joined the Weasleys, although Charlie was still nowhere to be seen.

His eyes shifted, seeking out the two people who mattered most to him. Ron and Hermione stared steadily back. Hermione's face was full of pride and excitement, while Ron calmly met Harry's eyes and nodded reassuringly.

Harry cleared his parched throat. "Well," he began, his voice cracking. He coughed, face reddening. Warm smiles and soft chuckling greeted his false start.

He felt, rather than saw, Ginny's presence at his side again. Her delicate fingers caught his and squeezed his. As promised, she stood by him.

Harry cleared his throat again, and suddenly found that he was able to speak fluently again.

"We have much to celebrate today, and much to remember. It wouldn't be right to begin our celebrations without remembering those who cannot be here to join in."

A solemn hush fell over the crowd. Many dabbed at their eyes, clearly recalling lost loved ones.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"S-Sirius Black"

"Remus Lupin"

"J-James and L-Lily-"

Harry stopped, unable to go on as hot tears coursed down his cheeks. The audience murmured in sympathy. As the silence lengthened, a clear, sweet voice spoke from his side.

"Nymphadora Tonks"

Harry turned to Ginny, who was crying silently, but continued to speak calmly.

"Colin Creavey"

Her voice quavered as she spoke.

"Fred W-Weasley"

She buried her head in Harry's shoulder, unable to continue.

"Harriet Jones"

"Rufus Scrimgeour"

"Amelia Bones"

Voices from across the hall called out, honouring the ranks of the dead who had fallen in the long battle against Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Finally they fell silent, and Harry spoke again.

"Severus Snape"

Whispers of incredulity and a few cries of "No!" echoed through the hall. Harry raised his hand again, and spoke into the tense silence.

"Yes. For reasons that you don't yet know – Severus Snape."

Harry's voice rang with conviction, silencing the dissenting murmurs. At his side, Ginny looked up uncomprehendingly, a question in her eyes. Squeezing her hand, Harry whispered softly, "Later, okay?" and she nodded quickly, squeezing his hand in response.

The uneasy silence in the hall was broken by a scrape as George Weasley stood up, a faint grin on his face. Lifting his glass high into the air, he solemnly declared, "George Weasley's right ear."

There was a split second of silence, then the hall exploded in laughter. Bill, mid-way through taking a sip of pumpkin juice, choked and snorted it out of his nose, liberally splattering the other Weasleys. Getting to his feet, he raised his glass and shouted, "Bill Weasley's good looks!"

As the laughter continued, others shouted out their own facetious toasts.

"Brian Took's second-best socks!"

"Nigel Jacob's chest hair!"

"Estelle Reeve's virtue!"

The last one was greeted with a loud cheer from the assembled wizards. Estelle Reeve, a short, dumpy witch, blushed bright red and hurriedly sat back down.

Smiling broadly, Harry gestured for silence again, shooting George a grateful look. George tipped an invisible hat to him and winked back. As the crowd subsided once more, Harry's face grew more solemn.

"I think, perhaps, a more serious toast is due."

Rumbles of assent filled the air, and the chairs were pushed back once more as everyone rose to their feet. Caught up in the moment, Harry glanced to one side, and with a casual gesture of his hand, silently Summoned two glasses, passing one to Ginny.

At the back of the room, sitting on the raised dais reserved for Hogwarts staff, Professor McGonagall started violently at this display of wandless magic, turning to whisper urgently to tiny Professor Flitwick.

Unaware of her sudden interest, Harry raised his glass high into the air, his voice ringing out over the silent audience.

"To loved ones lost."

As one, the toast boomed out of a thousand throats. Mr and Mrs Weasley, eyes streaming with tears, shouted out the toast defiantly.

In a quieter voice, Harry spoke again.

"To loved ones found."

Turning to Ginny, he barely heard the toast being repeated back. Eyes fixed on hers, he silently saluted her with his glass and drank deeply. Gazing up at his brilliant green eyes, which shone with an intensity matched only by her own, she mirrored his actions.

Several members of the audience gasped as the couple were enveloped in the eerie white glow, brighter and more brilliant than before. Jolted out of their reverie, the couple glanced curiously at the watching crowd, still ignorant of the reason for their reaction.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were staring at them with mouths wide open. After a brief, but furious conference, Mr Weasley got to his feet as casually as possible and hurried towards Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. Sitting down next to them on the dais, Mr Weasley bent his head close to the others and the conversation gathered in intensity.

Ginny, who had noted her father's movement, narrowed her eyes as she watched the three adults animated discussion. Her frown turned to an outright scowl as all three turned simultaneously to look at them. Spotting her glance, Mr Weasley whipped his head around, spoke a few more hurried words to the others, then walked briskly back to Mrs Weasley.

Harry, on the other hand, had seen none of this exchange. As the emotional audience gradually stilled after the toast, he was waiting for the right moment to begin. The next part of his impromptu speech was going to be the most difficult and vital.

"_For better or for worse, that's how they see you. They need that, Harry. Something to hold on to – someone to embody their hopes and dreams for the future."_

Drawing on the warm memory of Ginny's words of encouragement, Harry took a deep, steadying breath in, and spoke again.

"As important as it is to remember those lost, it is just as important to look forward.

The grief we feel now is the price we must pay for the love we felt, and in order to do their memory justice, we must pass that love onwards in our words and deeds as we rebuild our world around us."

Harry paused, wiping thin trickles of sweat from his brow. The entire hall was silent, the faces of the assembled witches and wizards rapt with attention. The pressure of his position seemed to fall on him like a herd of Hippogriffs and he swayed in his place.

Ginny was instantly there, her arm around his back. She knew how hard it was for Harry to speak like this in front of almost everyone he knew in the wizarding world. Although he was passionate in pursuing the causes he cared for, words never came easily for him. Leaning closer to him, she whispered softly, "Keep going – you're doing great."

Shooting Ginny a grateful glance, Harry stood tall once more. Although his hands were now shaking slightly and the sweat still trickled down his face, his voice betrayed none of the tension he felt. It was sure, certain and carried an unmistakable ring of authority.

When the members of the audience present spoke later of his speech, many would compare Harry to Albus Dumbledore in his youth. Harry knew nothing of this, however. His main concern was to get across these most vital words, preferably without making a complete prat of himself.

Looking across the audience, trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible, Harry continued.

"Some of you may have heard me earlier today, speaking of the choices we must make."

He paused, as the large form of Auror Morris caught his attention. The burly Auror shrank back in his seat, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"I know full well the temptation to fall into the path of hatred and vengeance towards those who have hurt us so badly. When I first set out to hunt down Voldemort-"

Gasps and cries sounded at Harry's fearless use of the Dark Lord's name. Harry shook his head in mild irritation.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the person – a friend of mine taught me that."

The crowd subsided, many with reddened cheeks at their reaction. Harry pressed on, eager not to lose momentum."

"When I set out to find Voldemort, I thought firstly to revenge the death of my parents, murdered at his hand. As my journey progressed, my feelings changed. I found that while I hated his deeds, I pitied the man that Tom Riddle had become. Blinded by lust for power and hatred towards those he felt had denied him chances in life, he took the path of vengeance, turning his back on all that was good and pure."

The atmosphere in the eerily silent hall was electric as the audience hung on Harry's every word.

Only Ginny, stood so near to Harry, could see the toll his words were taking on himself. His face was streaked with sweat and a muscle flickered in his jawbone. Stroking his arm gently with one hand, she held his slippery hand tighter in her other, and he let out a barely perceptible sigh.

"When I finally faced him, I offered him the chance for redemption – tried to give him an opportunity to step back from the precipice, but he could not – and it destroyed him."

Murmurs and quiet sobs rippled out across the hall. Harry waited patiently to speak his final words.

"I don't know if I deserve to ask any more of you than you have given already, but I will ask anyway. As you leave tonight, please think on what I have said. Stick closely to those you love, honour those you have loved and lost. Choose carefully – your choices affect us all."

As Harry finished speaking, there was a long, emotionally charged silence, and then it began. From the back of the hall, the staff of Hogwarts began to clap, slowly at first, then faster, rising from their seats. Others joined them and the applause rippled outwards, gaining in intensity and volume.

Harry's vision blurred with unshed tears as the Weasley's leapt to their feet as one, clapping madly and cheering wildly. Ginny hurled herself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. Her hot breath singed his ear as she spoke urgently.

"You did it Harry – you _did_ it! Now do you see what they see in you – do you?"

Harry turned to reply. He wasn't sure what he planned to say, but his mouth was suddenly stopped by Ginny's as she swept him into a passionate, fiery embrace.

The audience went wild, cheering hoarsely and whooping hysterically. As they drew apart, Harry, his face furiously burning, laughed helplessly, unable to resist. His eyes were alight with a fiercely joyful expression as he gazed at Ginny; half in disbelief at her actions and half in primitive approval.

Amongst the Weasleys, only Bill seemed shocked by this outrageously public display of affection from his youngest sister. He stood rooted to the spot, mouth wide open. Fleur reached over lovingly, and clicked his jaw shut with her hand.

Suddenly exhausted, Harry swayed unsteadily again, unable to move from his spot by the door. Seeing this, Ginny shouted out, "Let's eat!" and the tables immediately filled with food.

Professor McGonagell, caught midway to casting the same spell, stared wordlessly at Ginny. Turning to Professor Flitwick, she began talking urgently again.

Dragging Harry by the hand, Ginny set off towards the Weasley table. She didn't know about him, but after all the events of the day, _she_ could eat a half-cooked Hippogriff.

Dodging the outstretched arms, the young couple made their way towards their family, so engrossed in each other that they failed to notice several, older couples regarding them with speculative expressions.

As they reached the Weasley table and prepared to sit down, Professor McGonagall strode up, her face curiously unreadable. Professor Flitwick, his small legs struggling to keep up, followed in her wake.

Seeing their approach, Mr and Mrs Weasley rose instantly. Harry froze and his stomach lurched at their serious expression.

"Wha-" he began, but Professor McGonagall's brisk tones cut him off mid-word.

"Mr Potter, Miss Weasley. Could you please follow me – we need to discuss a matter of some urgency with you."

Turning with a flick of her cloak, she strode off without looking back. Professor Flitwick, who had only just caught up, sighed loudly as he set off after her, puffing loudly.

Ginny's face darkened and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Mum – care to tell me what the hell-"

"Not here Ginny!" Mrs Weasley's voice was tense with repressed emotion. Pausing for a second, then continuing in milder tones, she said carefully:

"It is for the best dear – please come with us." Her voice had a note of pleading in it, and something else that Harry couldn't identify. Looking at Ginny's furious, confused expression, he shrugged lightly and pulled her towards the stairs as the rest of the hall was filled with the sound of food being served.

Mr and Mrs Weasley quickly followed, their eyes locked on the faintly glowing trail which flowed out behind the young couple.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – The name's Bond…

As he entered the familiar office, Harry paused on the threshold, suddenly overcome with bittersweet memories of the time he had spent there with Professor Dumbledore. He breathed in unsteadily, inhaling the familiar smells he had always associated with Dumbledore, finding some comfort in them.

The room, as he had noticed previously, looked slightly different again. Snape's personal possessions had been unceremoniously stuffed into a

large chest to be replaced with Professor McGonagall's. Harry frowned as he looked at the half-open chest and silently vowed to bring it up with Professor McGonagall when he got a chance.

A slight nudge in his ribs brought him back to the present as a warm voice muttered in his ear. "Move over Harry – you're blocking the door." Ginny's voice was light and cheery, but with a sympathetic undertone.

Harry nodded, moving into the room. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were already there. McGonagall settled herself, somewhat gingerly, behind the enormous carved desk and Flitwick, using a pile of books as a stepping stone, heaved himself up into an armchair.

Professor McGonagall smiled warmly at Harry, her formal tones of a moment ago put aside. "Please take a seat Harry – you too Ginny." Harry blinked, startled at this sudden transformation. His tightly knotted stomach eased slightly as his sense of apprehension died away, to be replaced with curiosity. He smiled slightly to himself as he realised he had associated a meeting with McGonagall with a disciplinary procedure. _School's out Harry_, he thought. Everything was different now.

Taking the remaining two chairs in the room, Harry hesitated before sitting, turning to look inquiringly at Mr and Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley waved a hand at Harry, gesturing him to sit.

"It's okay Harry – we'll just Draw Up a chair."

Uncertain of her meaning, Harry settled himself into the chair, watching as Mrs Weasley wielded her wand like a pencil, quickly conjuring the outline of two chairs. With a flick of her wrist the chairs became solid. Harry noted with amusement the pink flowery pattern on them and Mr Weasley's hesitation in sitting down. His eyes twinkled as he saw Mr Weasley surreptitiously flick his wand, changing the chair to a more muted pattern as he sat back comfortably.

Glancing around the office, Harry's eyes settled on Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. The elderly wizard snored gently, his glasses slipping down his long nose as he dozed.

Following the direction of Harry's gaze, Professor McGonagall smiled and spoke gently. "He often appears this way still Harry – although I sometimes suspect that he might be more awake than he lets on."

Dumbledore's nose twitched, and Harry could have sworn that the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

"So, Harry," continued McGonagall. "How are you?"

Taken aback at her solicitous tone, Harry stumbled over his reply. "Oh – fine thanks Professor."

"You are no longer a student at Hogwarts Harry – you don't need to call me Professor." McGonagall's eyes twinkled as she looked at the uncomfortable young man.

"I know that – Professor – but it might take me a while to think that way," Harry admitted honestly.

Ginny grinned mischievously. "I, on the other hand, Minverva, have no-"

McGonagall's tone became slightly more acerbic. "Yes, well _you _are still a student at this school Miss Weasley." Her face softened. "So if you would please continue to use my official title in front of other students…"

Ginny stretched her arms casually, unabashed. "No problem Minvera – happy to help you out."

Harry stifled a chuckle, then his face became more serious. "You wanted to see us, Professor?" he reminded.

Professor McGonagall straightened behind the desk. "Yes, well, Harry – there is a great deal we need to talk about."

Repressing a sigh, Harry nodded. He had been expecting her implied request. "I'm aware that there is a lot that you, the Ministry – and others," his glance took in the Weasleys and Ginny, "want – deserve – to know about the last year."

McGonagall nodded, her lined face looking grim.

"If you don't mind-" Harry paused, considering his next words. "I would prefer to retell this story only once-" He stopped again. Reaching over, Ginny took his hand in hers, silently offering her support.

He cleared his throat, continuing. "I thought that perhaps we might arrange a meeting for the Order next week and me, Ron and Hermione could tell you all our story."

McGonagall nodded, her eyes warm with sympathy. "I quite agree Harry. Would you like me to help you co-ordinate the meeting with the others?"

A wave of gratitude rushed over Harry and he leaned back in the chair, aware that he had been perched nervously on the edge of the seat.

"That would be fine Professor. I'll send you a message in a few day's time with Hed-" He stopped, his eyes suddenly hot.

Ginny spoke up quickly. "You can use one of our owls Harry – although I'm not sure Errol is up to any long journeys." Her dark eyes lingered on Harry's face, watching intently.

Harry met her eyes, and a long, tender moment passed between them. He started as he felt a light tingling sensation running down his arm and watched in astonishment as a pale white glow covered their interlocked fingers. Following his gaze, Ginny exclaimed softly in amazement.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "Perhaps, Headmistress, we had better move on to," he gestured significantly towards Harry and Ginny, "er – matters _in hand_?"

Her eyes moving quickly over the young couple, Professor McGonagall inhaled sharply as she saw their glowing hands.

Beside Ginny, Mrs Weasley gasped in shock. Her voice quavered as she implored, "Minvera – it – it can't be true, can it?"

Reluctantly nodding, the elderly Professor replied quietly, "I'm afraid so – you know the signs as well as I – better, I imagine."

Mr and Mrs Weasley stiffened in their chairs, looking for all the world as if they had been Petrified.

Harry's stomach knotted, his heart racing as he was filled with a sinking sense of foreboding. Ginny's hand clenched involuntarily, her nails sinking painfully into his hand. "Professor-" he inquired shakily.

"Harry. Ginny. You have noted that glow surrounding your hands, I think?"

McGonagall's voice was low, filled with an emotion that Harry couldn't identify. He glanced at Ginny's wide eyes, and they nodded cautiously.

"Have you perhaps, noted it before?"

Ginny replied first, "No, never." She looked inquiringly at Harry, her worried face posing a silent question.

Harry started to agree with her, then stopped, his brow furrowing in concentration. He _had_ – or at least he thought he had – seen a similar glow surrounding Ginny outside the Great Hall, before his speech.

"I – I think I might have, Professor," he admitted quietly. "When Ginny and I were outside the Great Hall – after I had, well-" His voice trailed off as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment, remembering his panicked departure from the hall.

"And why didn't you mention it to _me_, Harry?" asked Ginny, an edge to her voice. Her hand slipped from his as she glared at him.

Hurrying to explain, Harry spoke quickly, eager to avoid Ginny's wrath.

"There wasn't time Gin. It was just before we went back in, remember? I was nervous and you said that you would stand by me forev-" Harry's mouth snapped shut and his face burned as he realised that he had given away her private words. Ginny's face was glowing as well, but Harry had an uneasy feeling that it wasn't only with embarrassment.

There was a collective intake of breath from the adults in the room, and Harry stared at them, his cheeks flushing deeper red.

Ginny, her face fierce, spoke defiantly, "What's the matter now? What I say to Harry – _privately-"_ Harry's mouth suddenly felt parched as she cast a furious glance in his direction. "That's nothing to get worked up about, is it?"

There was no answer from the silent adults. Ginny, her eyes now flaming, looked on the verge of a Mrs Weasley-ish meltdown when Professor Flitwick interrupted. His face was serious, his expression intent.

"Harry – when Miss Weasley said – well, no need to repeat, I think – when she said _that_ to you, did you, perhaps-" he paused, mopping his brow with a tiny handkerchief, "say something similar in response?"

Harry's face was now so hot that he half-expected Professor McGonagall's desk to burst into flames. Not daring to speak, he cast a furtive look in Ginny's direction, his eyes lowered.

This seemed to be response enough for the Charms Professor. He leant forward in his chair, his voice becoming even more serious.

"And – had you previously made another Declaration to each other?"

Ginny and Harry looked at each other uncomprehendingly. Mrs Weasley, her pale face contrasting with their red ones, spoke up.

"Filius – perhaps if I explain?"

Professor Flitwick, looking immensely relieved, sat back in his chair, murmuring, "Yes Molly, quite right. After all…"

Mrs Weasley turned to face Harry and Ginny. "What Professor Flitwick means to say is – have you spoken of-" Her face reddened as she looked at her daughter. "-well - of love?"

There was a sudden thud as Ginny's seat hit the floor. Her eyes flared with heat and her fists were balled tightly, her anger exploding. Shrinking in his seat, Harry found himself caught between abject terror and burning desire as he gazed helplessly up at her beautiful, fiery face.

"That is _none_ of your business mother! How _dare_ you – how _dare _you?"

If it hadn't been for the seriousness of the moment, Harry could have almost laughed at the expression on Mrs Weasley's face. After years of being the most terrifying Weasley, she looked as if she had finally met her match.

"Ginny – please sit-"

Ginny's voice rose to a shriek. "I will not sit mother! I am not a child, and what Harry and I say to each other is no-one's business but our own! Is that clear, mother?"

Sensing that the Third Wizarding War was in danger of breaking out, Harry catapulted himself out of his seat, rushing to Ginny's side and embracing her tightly. Angrily, she tried to throw him off. Harry could feel the tension running through his body, and gripped tighter, refusing to let go.

Slowly, her anger subsided, her body now trembling in response to the passionate emotions still running through her. Taking a half-step back, Harry looked down into her blazing eyes, speaking softly.

"Ginny, you're right. It is none of their business. But I'm not ashamed of it either – are you?" Ginny's head shook quickly and fiercely.

Slipping an arm around Ginny's waist, Harry turned to the mortified adults and replied to their intrusive question. "Yes, we are in love – and not ashamed to admit it. And now, I think, you need to stop asking questions and start explaining yourselves."

His tone was again a mixture of mildness and steely undertones. The adults shivered at his quiet air of authority and Ginny glanced up at him, uncertain of what to make of this new, harder, Harry.

Professor McGonagall spoke quickly, attempting to restore calm. "Harry, Ginny, you are quite right. Your feelings are nothing to be ashamed of, and do you both credit. However, in the magical world, such Declarations have consequences. Filius, as Charms are your area of expertise, perhaps you…"

Professor Flitwick looked disgruntled as he took up the explanation.

"Harry, Ginny – you recall, no doubt, Bill and Fleur's wedding last year?"

Harry nodded tersely. "I'm not feeling much clearer yet, Professor," he spoke warningly, his eyes flickering.

"You will remember the vows they spoke, and the magical Bond formed between them as a result?"

Beside him, Ginny gasped, swaying on her feet as her face suddenly drained of colour. Confused, Harry nodded again.

"While the wedding is an important event in any couple's relationship, in the magical world it is the vows and the intent behind them which forge the Bond." Flitwick paused, once more wiping his forehead.

"So powerful are these bonds, that once cast they cannot be broken, hence the fact that there are no divorces between witches and wizards." Harry nodded impatiently – he had heard of this.

Flitwick continued, leaning forward once more. "In the normal course of events, it takes several months of Marriage Preparation lessons to focus the couple's emotions to be able to cast the Marriage Charm at the wedding-"

Feeling a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry looked at his old Charms Professor, his face paling. "Professor, what do you mean by the_ normal _course of events?"

Looking even more uncomfortable, Flitwick answered, not looking at Harry. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Mrs Weasley clutching her husband's hand for support.

"It is very rare – very rare indeed – but not unheard of by any means. If a witch and wizard, in the midst of an emotionally intense moment, make a Declaration of Love towards each other a powerful Love Bond can be formed between them."

Harry felt his knees suddenly sag and his mouth dried, but the Professor hadn't finished.

"If the couple then go on to make a Declaration of Commitment to each other, pledging one to another for the rest of their lives, then…" Flitwick's voice trailed off.

Feeling as if he had been hit by several Bludgers at once, Harry slowly turned his head to look at Ginny. "You mean-"

Ginny's eyes were huge and her face chalky white. They spoke in unison as they stared at each other.

"We're married?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – I now pronounce you…

Pulling his hand from Ginny's, Harry angrily stalked across the room, shaking his head in denial. His voice was angry and harsh as he turned on the adults.

"You're wrong! We can't be – I'm too young to be – how can you _know_ that? What proof have you got?"

An ashen-faced Mrs Weasley stepped slowly forward, pulling a reluctant Ginny with her. She looked into Harry's furious face, speaking softly and surprisingly calmly.

"Harry – take Ginny's hands and look at her."

Harry snorted angrily. "How does that help?"

Mrs Weasley sighed, staring entreatingly into Harry's blazing face. "Please Harry – just do as I ask."

Sighing, Harry stepped towards Ginny, taking her hands in his own. Her grip was loose, even though her hands were shaking. She stared at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Ginny?"

Ginny's whole body was shaking now with some repressed emotion.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Harry's breath froze in his chest as she slowly looked up at him, a desolate expression on her face. Her warm brown eyes wore a hurt, guarded expression. Harry gazed in horror as tears collected at the corners and began working their way down her cheeks.

"Ginny! Talk to me!" Harry's voice crackled with tension, his hands tightening on hers.

Slowly, reluctantly, as if she were dragging each word out of a far-away place, Ginny replied.

"H-Harry – are y-you ash-ashamed of m-m-me?" The tears were now pouring down her face in earnest as Harry looked on, aghast.

"D-Don't you w-w-ant to be m-m-married to m-m-me? Don-t-"

Crushing her to him in one convulsive movement, Harry's eyes burned into hers with an intensity which stopped her words at once. His heart fractured as he considered how his violent exclamations of a moment earlier must have sounded to her. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled with urgency.

"Ginny, I could _never_ be ashamed of you. I am _proud_ to be with you, and always will be."

Her eyes relaxed slightly, but still remained wary.

"I'm sorry – I was just taken by surprise. For the last year I have often thought – dreamed that one day, in the future we could be-" He hesitated, then forced the word out, "_married_. I just didn't expect it today, that's all," he finished lamely.

Ginny's whole body sagged, melting into his arms. Gently wiping the tears from her cheeks, Harry whispered heartfelt apologies as, lost in the moment, they clung to each other.

The tender exchange was broken by the sound of Mr Weasley's voice, speaking for the first time. "I'm afraid that – ready or not – it might be too late for that." He nodded towards their joined hands.

Harry and Ginny took a step apart, gasping as they realised that their hands, and arms, were tingling with the pale unearthly glow. Looking up, their gasps turned to awestruck sighs as they simultaneously realised that the glow extended to their whole bodies.

Stepping back again, breaking contact, the couple watched as the glow subsided, but a thin white glowing stream remained, connecting their bodies even though they now stood several feet apart.

Speaking into the reverential hush, Flitwick's scratchy, high-pitched voice captured their immediate attention.

"As you can see, in some cases, the Marriage Charm between a couple can be strong enough to be seen as a faint glow." He stopped, turning to Mr and Weasley. "If I recall correctly…" the ancient wizard mused.

Mrs Weasley crossed towards Harry and Ginny. "Filius is right. Ginny, when I and your father were married, we too experienced this." She blushed slightly, casting a flustered look over her shoulder at her smiling husband.

"After a few days, it subsided, but for a while afterwards, particularly when we were-" her voice faltered as a deep red blush spread up her neck. Mr Weasley's smile had taken on a certain, unmistakably male quality.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I think we get the picture – thanks for the information mum."

Harry, his face burning brightly, seemed to be taking an inordinate interest in the spines of Professor McGonagell's _Encyclopaedia Enchantia_ arranged on a nearby bookcase.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "Hmm – yes, well, it is true that when the wizard and witch are, err, sharing an emotional moment, let's say – this side-effect can be seen again." He took a deep breath out, running a wrinkled hand over his balding scalp.

"What I have never seen, or even heard of, is a Marriage Charm so strong as to connect a couple when they are _not_ in, err, direct physical contact."

Mrs Weasley's face was now burning so brightly that Ginny could feel the heat radiating off it. She looked over at Harry, who now appeared engrossed in a rather fetching display of Romanian Troll toenails by the window. _Typical_, she thought.

"Oi Potter, are you with us?" she snapped. Harry's head shot round, face still red. He cleared his throat, muttering something inaudibly. Sighing again, she tugged him by his hand over to their seats, idly waving her hand and Transfiguring them into a comfy sofa.

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Harry and Ginny plopped back into the sofa, Harry rubbing his forehead with a tired expression. Ginny looked at him in concern. It had been a long day for him – for both of them. Steeling herself, she asked weakly, "So what does this mean – for us?"

Professor Flitwick sat down on a low stool near to them, his feet barely touching the ground. His brow furrowed as he spoke more quickly now, unconsciously slipping into a detached lecturing tone.

"Well, you will be afforded the same wizarding rights as any other married couple. Health benefits, tax status and so on. As husband and wife, your worldly possessions and wealth will be equally shared."

Attempting to lighten the mood, Ginny nudged Harry, commenting wryly, "Well, on my side that amounts to Charlie's old broom, an extensive collection of Hollyhead Harpies memorabilia and Arnold, my Pygmy Puff. How about you?"

Harry shifted uneasily on the sofa as he thought about his overflowing vault at Gringotts. He was acutely aware that Ginny had no real idea of how wealthy he was. _There's so much we don't know about each other_. His eyes strayed to her neck, where the beginnings of what looked like an ugly scar were just visible above her collar. _So much_.

Attempting to match her light tone, Harry forced a chuckle. "Oh, this and that – a pair of Dudley's old socks – stuff like that." Shifting in his seat again, he ignored Ginny's curious look. This wasn't the right time for financial revelations.

Continuing in the same tone as before, Flitwick continued his long list. Ginny's mind whirled as his voice washed over hers. Next of kin status, legal liability – the list went on and on. Her eyes began to droop.

"And of course, for you, Miss Weasley, a change in name," Professor Flitwick concluded airily.

Ginny's eyes suddenly opened wide. Before she knew it, she was on her feet staring blankly at the tiny Professor.

"E-Excuse me?" she stammered.

Lost in his thoughts, Flitwick didn't see the colour draining from Ginny's face or take in her swaying posture.

"You mean to say, that I'm now-"

Flitwick casually completed her sentence.

"Mrs Ginevra Molly Potter – of course!"

Ginny's eyes fluttered shut and she keeled over in a dead faint.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – warding off the Ward

As the colour slowly returned to her face and the whirling sensation subsided, Ginny's tattered thoughts began to reassert themselves. She cringed internally as the full weight of Professor Flitwick's words came crashing down on her. _Mrs Ginevra Molly Potter_.

A wave of mortification flooded her as she considered what others would say. Her friends, her family – her brothers especially. And what about the wider world? She could imagine what the likes of Rita Skeeter and the _Daily Prophet_ would make of it. She groaned softly as she imagined the headlines.

_Potter's pal becomes his gal._

_Shotgun shock as Potter pops the question_.

She took a sudden intake of breath as she considered that last one. They wouldn't think that they had married for _that_ had they? That she was-

Her mind shied away from the word _pregnant_. They hadn't even – well, they had barely spent any time together since last year at school. She wasn't even Of Age yet. Surely they wouldn't – would they?

She could remember all too well the stories printed about Harry during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The likes of Rita Skeeter had a rather tenuous grip on truth, and certainly didn't let it get in the way of a good story.

Her agitated thought ground to a halt as she suddenly remembered the one person she had not been thinking about – Harry. A wave of shame washed over her as she reviewed her selfish worries._ It's not just you now, Ginny_, she told herself furiously.

Struggling to open her eyes, Ginny blinked blearily, trying to focus on the ceiling of Professor McGonagall's office. As it swam into focus, she frowned slightly. Strange, she didn't recall the ceiling being so high. And since when was it arched like that?

Turning her head slightly to look around, her vision was suddenly filled with a pair of large, bright green eyes peering out behind round glasses. As she looked on, the worried expression in them relaxed slightly.

"Harry?" Ginny heard with surprise that her voice sounded weak and shaky.

Pulling herself together, she tried again.

"Where are we?"

Harry's eyes clouded over slightly. Sitting up quickly – too quickly – Ginny moaned as a fresh wave of dizziness washed over her. Harry's hand was instantly round her shoulders, gently supporting her.

After a few seconds, the dizziness subsided and Ginny took a good look around her. She was sat up on a bed in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts.

Puzzled, she turned to Harry. "How long was I out? Did you carry me-"

She was interrupted by a loud slam as the doors to the Ward crashed open and Professor McGonagall, followed closely by a worried-looking Mr and Mrs Weasley, strode through. They were out of breath and had clearly just arrived.

Bustling after them came the familiar form of Madame Pomfrey. Her usual prim demeanour was not quite intact today – wisps of hair escaped the tight bun in which it was normally kept and she wore a harried expression.

Ignoring Ginny's protesting words, the stern Matron pushed Ginny back down onto the bed and began to briskly check her over. As Ginny grudgingly gave way to her ministrations, she could see the adults looking at Harry with strange expressions. To her astonishment, Harry had a guilty, confused expression on her face.

Sitting quickly up again, ignoring Madame Pomfrey's disapproving sniff, Ginny demanded angrily, "Why are you looking at my husband in that way?"

Harry's face burned dark red and Ginny's also caught fire as she realised what she had said.

Madame Pomfrey punctured the awkward silence. "She's perfectly fine Minvera. Just a sudden shock, I expect. Bed rest for a few hours is all that is required. Now, if you don't mind…"

Without waiting for a reply, the busy Matron bustled off through the doors to the next Ward.

As the slamming doors echoed around the otherwise empty room, Ginny turned her attention back to the others.

"Well, does anyone care to tell me what _exactly_ is going on?"

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, her eyes lingering on Harry.

"Miss Wea – Ginny – the reason that we have only just arrived here is that Harry somehow managed to Apperate both of you directly to the Hospital Wing."

Ginny felt confused. "So what? He's been able to Apperate for ages."

The Professor sighed. "Ginny, it is impossible to Apperate within the grounds of Hogwarts without first lifting the powerful wards protecting the castle."

"Oh," said Ginny, "I didn't know that".

Professor McGonagall shot Ginny a filthy glance. "Honestly, does no-one _ever_ read _Hogwarts: A History?" _she muttered.

Shaking off her irritation, the elderly Professor continued. "As the knowledge of how to lift the wards was lost when Professor Dumbledore died-" Her voice shook slightly on the last word. She paused, looking directly at Harry with what Ginny took to be an accusing expression. "I am at a loss as to explain how Harry did it."

Ginny felt her temperature rising at the implication. "Just what are you trying to suggest?" she began hotly.

Harry's quiet voice interrupted her. "Minerva, I too am at a loss to explain it." Ginny smiled at his authoritative tone and deliberate use of McGonagall's first name._ That's my man_, she thought proudly.

Looking at Ginny, he spoke directly to her. "When you – fell," he began. Ginny's face warmed with embarrassment. Harry squeezed her hand before continuing. "I caught you – and then, here we were," he explained simply.

As if anticipating further questions, Harry turned to the others.

"All I remember is feeling an overwhelming urge to get Ginny help – and my mind must have done the rest."

Professor McGonagall frowned. "But that doesn't explain it Harry. It is simply not possible to Apperate inside Hogwarts without lifting the wards," she declared firmly.

Mr Weasley spoke up in Harry's defence. "Just like it is impossible to destroy Dementors with a Patronus, Minvera?"

"Dementors?" snapped McGonagall. "What are you talking about Arthur?"

There was a tense silence, broken by the doors slamming open as a red-faced Professor Flitwick arrived, panting.

"Sorry – I'm – late. Have – I missed – anything?"

The others turned and stared at him silently.

Harry sighed. "You'd better sit down – all of you," he stated bluntly. "This may take some time."

Once Harry had explained the battle with the Dementors, listened patiently to the Professors' violent exclamations and agreed to write a full report for the Ministry, the conversation began to turn back to the extraordinary magic he and Ginny now seemed capable of.

Professor McGonagall was pacing past Ginny's bed, clearly agitated.

"I had noticed earlier – in the Great Hall – when you Summoned the food Ginny. Then later, in my office, you Transfigured the chairs. Both times, without saying a word or even using your wand!"

Ginny shot Harry an uncertain look. "Did I?" Harry shrugged helplessly. "Dunno Gin, didn't notice." He shifted in his seat, uneasy. Ginny watched as his expression darkened, his eyes becoming dull and lifeless.

"Harry?" she inquired, her voice sharp with worry.

"Professor," Harry began carefully, not looking up. "Is it possible that – well that during my battle with Voldemort – that something may have been transferred-"

Ginny looked at Harry narrowly. Judging from his hunched shoulders, this was a question of vital importance to him – and yet she couldn't understand why he would assume that._ There's so much we don't know about each other_, she thought, unaware that she was echoing Harry's earlier thoughts. Her hand strayed to her neck, feeling the now-familiar roughness of the curse scar that disfigured her smooth skin. _So much._

Pushing aside dark memories with an effort, she forced herself to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

Professor McGonagall frowned. "I'm not sure, Harry," she began tentatively, aware of the tension in the young wizard's voice. "I'm by no means an expert in the Dark Arts."

Ginny tensed as Harry slumped further into his seat. For a moment, she felt as if she could almost hear his despairing thoughts._ Never be free – not fit to be with her – unclean…_

Reaching quickly over, she shook his shoulder slightly. "Harry – snap out of it." Harry's head shot up, and the tentative connection she felt, or imagined, broke as his eyes focused on hers.

"You _are_ fit to be with me," Ginny stated fiercely. "You are a good man, Harry Potter. You. Are. Not. Unclean." Her voice was stern as she hammered out the last words.

Harry blinked, his jaw falling open. "How did you know-" he began.

Ginny shrugged lightly. "Dunno Harry, just did," she said teasingly, mimicking his earlier words.

Harry shook his head wonderingly, then turned back to the Professors. Ginny followed his gaze, and found the others looking back in confusion. Clearly they were unaware of what had just passed between them. Come to think of it, she wasn't too sure herself.

After a brief silence, Mr Weasley spoke up. "Harry, when did you first notice these new abilities? Was it yesterday, during your battle with Voldemort? This morning?"

Ginny watched as Harry considered, holding her breath.

"No," he said musingly. "No, it wasn't then. I felt the same this morning." He looked at Ginny. "When the Dementors first attacked, we were losing, right?" he asked.

Ginny shuddered, remembering the awful high-pitched screaming coming from Harry as he lay convulsing on the ground.

"That's right," she replied in a whisper. The others leaned closer to hear. "Harry's first Patronus couldn't repel them all. I couldn't even cast mine. I crawled over to him as they began to swarm around him. I held his hand. I told him-"

Her voice cracked and she fell silent. She stared at Harry as they both remembered her final words in that terrible moment.

_I love you Harry Potter. Now get up and let's finish this – together._

"Ah," said Mr Weasley kindly. "A Declaration, I believe?"

Ginny nodded silently.

Behind the Weasleys, the two Professors were huddled deep in a whispered conversation. Straining her ears, Ginny picked out urgent scraps of it.

"Powerful Bond"

"Desperate circumstances"

"Estonia, wasn't it?"

Clearing her throat significantly, she glared at them. "Anything you want to share, _Professors_?" Her voice was sugary soft, but cracked like a whip. The two teachers fell silent.

"We can't be sure – we need to do some further research-" piped up Flitwick.

"However," continued McGonagall smoothly. "It seems clear to me that these new powers dated from the time of your first Declaration. Therefore I think that it is much more likely to be related to this powerful bond that exists between the both of you, then it is to any Dark magic."

Ginny saw Harry sit back in his chair, exhaling explosively as he visibly relaxed. He looked up at her, grinning ruefully at her expression. "Sorry Gin," he whispered. "Jumped to the wrong conclusion, I guess."

"Hmm," Ginny replied. "One for later?" she enquired.

Harry met the challenge in her eyes. "One for later," he agreed.

"No secrets, right?" she pressed. Harry nodded, but Ginny noticed his eyes flickering towards her neck.

Mrs Weasley's voice interrupted their private moment. "I think that we can pick up this later, don't you agree Minvera?" Her voice was protective as she looked at the serious faces of the young couple. "I think that Ginny and Harry have had quite enough to deal with today."

Ginny quickly jumped in. "Yes we have, and I can't keep taking up valuable bed space, can I?"

Professor McGonagall nodded, although she looked as if she wished to continue the conversation further. "Go directly to the Gryffindor common room though. Poppy was quite clear – you need rest. Both of you."

Ginny held out a hand to Harry. "Give a girl a helping hand?" she enquired lightly.

Harry's eyes sparkled. "Always," he replied, lifting her effortlessly to her feet.

Hmm, Ginny thought, as her hands roamed over his back, feeling the taut muscles in his shoulders. Someone's all grown up now, isn't he?

And then she blushed at the direction of her thoughts.

The journey back to the common room was a long and laborious one. Getting out of the Hospital Wing took forever, as injured witches and wizards insisted on getting out of bed to shake Harry's hand, pat his back and generally show their appreciation.

Madame Pomfrey finally Banished the patients all back to their beds with a flick of her wand and practically ordered them out of the ward.

"It's not my fault they all want to make a big deal out of nothing, is it?" grumbled Harry.

Ginny sighed. When was he ever going to get it, she thought.

By the time they had escaped the Hospital Wing, Ginny was starting to droop. She still felt weak from her faint, although she denied it fiercely when asked. "Do I look like a helpless maiden, Potter?"

Wisely, Harry kept silent, much to the amusement of Mr and Mrs Weasley.

As their progress slowed, Professor McGonagall suggested that Harry try Apperating them back to the common room. She made it sound as if it were the sensible option, but there was a calculating glint in her eye that made Ginny suspect otherwise.

Harry stopped, shrugged, and held Ginny's hand, concentrating. The atmosphere suddenly grew electric. Ginny gasped as the tiny hairs on her arms stood up. A low humming filled the corridor and she closed her eyes.

Silence descended. Opening her eyes, Ginny said eagerly, "Well?"

The two Professors and the Weasleys looked back at her.

"Oh," she sighed, disappointed. Harry looked rather dejected. "I thought I had it for a moment," he muttered.

"Never mind, Harry!" said Ginny bracingly. She threw herself into his arms, ignoring the mutters from her mother. "You can always carry me there."

Harry smile lit up the dark corridor.

By the time they reached the common room, the afternoon had turned to evening and both Harry and Ginny were dead on their feet. Harry, in particular, hadn't eaten all day, while Ginny had only managed a few bites of toast at breakfast. They slumped into a sofa in the deserted common room. Harry wondered exhaustedly where Ron and Hermione had got to, then decided he perhaps didn't want to know.

Mrs Weasley took one look at them, and ordered them to bed. Too tired to protest, Harry set off for the stairs to his dormitory, Ginny following behind.

"Ginny Weasley – stop right there!" Mrs Weasley's voice was sharp and stern. "Where do you think you are going, young lady?"

Ginny looked puzzled for a moment. To tell the truth, she had given no thought to her actions, thinking only of crawling into bed with Harry and falling asleep as quickly as possible.

"Sorry, mum?" she mumbled confusedly.

"I should think you are, Ginevra Molly Weasley!" Mrs Weasley's face was swelling with outrage. Harry was uncomfortably reminded of the Engorgement Charm he had placed on Aunt Marge and had to look away to stifle a grin.

"Heading for the _boy's_ dormitory? Need I remind you that you are still _underage_?"

Ginny's eyes flared with a sudden heat. "And need I remind you that I am still _married_?" she hissed.

Mrs Weasley's mouth fell open, clearly at a loss for words. Behind Ginny's back, Harry was making muffled choking sounds as he stuffed a fist into his mouth in a desperate attempt to smother his laughter.

Mr Weasley's mouth twitched, but then hurriedly straightened as his wife turned on him with a furious expression. "Arthur, aren't you going to say something?" she demanded.

Staring at her outraged mother, Ginny's temper – on edge all day – finally snapped. Balling her fists on her hips in a very passable impression of her mother, her anger exploded over her parents.

"Will you both _grow _up? Harry and I are _tired_, we want to _sleep_, and we just found out today that we are _married_. If you seriously think that all we can think of is _that_, then you are very much mistaken – and frankly, I'm very disappointed with both of you."

Harry's face exploded with embarrassment at Ginny's words. Hardly daring to look up, he decided that he had better intervene as Mrs Weasley wound up to deliver a returning broadside. Silently hoping that the ground would open and swallow him up, he managed to squeak out, "Mrs Weasley-" before stopping.

Mrs Weasley, caught before she could speak, halted, glaring at Ginny. Harry looked at the small figure next to him while he considered what to say. Ginny's face was hot with anger, but Harry frowned as he noted the tears gathered in her eyes and the deep-seated resentment in her expression.

He knew that, as the youngest, Ginny was often treated as a child. While it was true that, at sixteen, she was not yet Of Age, she would be in a few month's time, not long after he turned eighteen.

During the battle, Harry had sided with Mrs Weasley about Ginny's age, not because he felt she couldn't cope, but out of his burning desire to keep her safe. After the events of today, he was forced to reconsider his actions.

If she had not been there to help him, he would have died at the hands of the Dementors – he had no doubt about that. Coupled with that was the fact that she was now his wife. She had pledged to stand by his side no matter what, and he had done the same. He sensed that if he sided with Mrs Weasley again, it would be a betrayal of those vows – and he could not live with that.

Taking her small hand in his, he stood to his full height and faced the Weasleys.

"Molly, Arthur," he began, his tone steady and calm. "Your concerns do you much justice, and I respect you for the care and concern you have always shown for Ginny. But she's right. Ginny is now my wife, and we are going to need some time to figure that out – alone. There is still a lot we need to deal with – a lot to talk about, and we cannot do that if we have to fight with you for the time, space and trust we need."

He paused, not sure how well he was doing. The silent pressure of Ginny's hand in his spurred him on. "I'm well aware that Ginny is not Of Age, and you know I will honour that. More importantly though, you should consider the very little time we have spent together. This Marriage Charm business has taken us all by surprise, and we need to take some time to come to terms with that."

He took a deep breath in, looking directly into Mr and Mrs Weasley's startled, silent faces. "When the time comes for Ginny and I to move forwards with our relationship, that is a decision we will take together, and I respectfully ask for you to leave that to us."

Mrs Weasley's face was shining with tears, and Mr Weasley was looking at Harry with an air of unmistakable paternal pride.

"Now, if you don't mind," finished Harry wearily. "We're knackered, and we're going to bed." Turning around, Harry led a wide-eyed and silent Ginny up the long, curved flight of stairs to his blissfully dark dormitory.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Pillow talk

Waking the next morning, Harry stretched and found his vision filled with a glorious mane of red hair. As his thoughts gathered themselves, he grinned and tightened his arms around the sleeping body of Ginny – his wife.

Breathing in the sweet flowery scent that was now indelibly linked in his mind with Ginny, Harry began to softly run his fingers through her long red hair while his mind wandered to other, less pleasant subjects.

Their late-night conversation with Mr and Mrs Weasley was playing on his mind. When they had finally, wearily, hauled their tired bodies up the long flight of stairs to the dormitory, Ginny had remained very quiet and was strangely shy with him.

Harry was fairly sure she was not angry about how he had spoken to her parents – the few times that her silent gaze had met his, she had flushed nervously and quickly glanced away. There had been a new tension between them – something too adult and uncertain to verbalise. Too tired after their long day for any more long conversations, they had tumbled into Harry's bed and fallen fast asleep instantly.

Silently vowing to return to the subject, Harry's breath caught in his throat as he recalled the terror by the lake. The Dementor attack bubbled up to the surface, the details all too fresh in his mind. Harry's brow furrowed in frustration as he mulled it over, his arms unconsciously drawing tighter around Ginny. _It all made no sense_, he thought savagely. Why so many Dementors, and why wait until after the Battle? The Professors had promised to look into it, but Harry didn't hold out much hope of an easy explanation.

Forcibly shifting his thoughts, Harry realised with a sudden start that he no longer felt the crippling sense of guilt and responsibility for the deaths of so many over the past year. To tell the truth, he felt a fraction of the amount of guilt he had yesterday – the forgiveness and generosity shown to him by the Weasleys, especially George's words about Fred, had seen to that.

In fact, in place of the guilt, responsibility and pressure which had been weighing him down for so long, he now felt a strange sense of lightness. Whereas before he had seen only pain and darkness in his future, his horizons had suddenly opened up and the view was looking very different. There were many reasons for this – the defeat of Voldemort, the acceptance shown by the Weasleys – but the main one was lying right now in his arms.

Harry's expression softened as he looked down at the peaceful sleeping face of his wife. Realising that he was now holding her too tightly, he relaxed his grip and began to withdraw his arms. A soft sigh of disappointment came from Ginny, and, whilst still asleep, she pulled his arms tighter around him.

A low chuckle escaped from his lips. It sounded foreign almost –the last year had not been filled with many moments of lightness. He silently vowed that the next year would be filled with many more opportunities for love, laughter and happiness.

Looking down again at Ginny's face he noted that, although currently peaceful, her face was drawn and pale. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, which were still puffy and red. He sighed – the events of the last few days had taken their toll on her. The loss of Fred was a devastating blow to the close-knit Weasley family and the wound would take time to begin healing.

He shifted his arm slightly, moving so that he could see the half-hidden scar on Ginny's neck. There had not been a chance to share their stories about the events of the past year, and until they could, Harry had a feeling that they wouldn't be able to start looking to the future. The thought of retelling his story filled him with dread, but he owed it to Ginny to tell her first. Hopefully his openness would encourage her to respond – he knew better than to try to force confidences from her that she was not ready to share.

Glancing over to Ron's bed, he was surprised to see it empty. Looking around, being careful not to wake Ginny, Harry realised that the entire dormitory was similarly deserted. He smiled softly – despite her protestations, he could recognise the work of Mrs Weasley when he saw it. Considerate as always, she had clearly arranged to give the newlyweds the time and space they had asked for.

Harry's eyes widened as he realised that, throughout his musings, he had been unconsciously referring to himself and Ginny as being married. He ran a shaking hand though his tousled hair and exhaled softly as he pondered on _that_ event. Now that he had time to get over the shock, he found that the idea was strangely…comfortable. It seemed right somehow. Almost like that's how it should always have been.

Even though he had spent so much time oblivious to Ginny's charms, once he had finally woken up to her he had fallen fast and hard. Their forced separation had only strengthened his feelings for her, and once he had seen her tear-stained face by the lake he knew that this was it for him. Him and Ginny. Forever.

He felt a soft tingling sensation running through his body and looked down in amusement as the faint glow of the Marriage Charm ran down his arm. Despite what Professor Flitwick had said, it seemed that this was one effect of the charm that would not be wearing off any time soon.

As the glow reached his hand, Ginny stirred and slowly opened her golden brown eyes, glancing blearily up at Harry. A slow smile crept over her sleepy face and the glow spread from Harry's hand until they were both alight with it.

"Mmm, I could get used to this," murmured Ginny in a voice thick with sleep. "Morning you."

Harry bent his head and gently kissed her warm lips. "Morning – Mrs Potter."

Ginny's eyes widened for a moment and Harry held his breath, uncertain of her response. He let the breath out as he felt the muscles in her back relax and a tentative half-smile appear on her face.

"I could get used to that as well," she whispered, a faint red tinge creeping over her cheeks. "Not like yesterday, though."

Harry's eyes twinkled with amusement, and his lip twisted with a faintly sardonic expression. "Yes, I was meaning to talk to you about that," he began teasingly.

Ginny slapped his chest lightly. "Don't even think about it Mr Potter," she warned. "Not unless you want be know as the Boy-Who-Limped for the rest of your days."

Harry put on an expression of mock fear. "Now that is one prophecy I don't ever want to come true," he chuckled. "It was kind of sweet though…"

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously. "Last warning Mr Potter," she hissed.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I give up – no need for Bat Bogies here." He paused, then added, "Mrs Potter."

"Right!" snapped Ginny, looking around for her wand. "I'm going to hex you into the middle of next week!"

Harry playfully tightened his arms around her, preventing her from reaching the bedside table where she had placed her wand. "Not unless you've mastered wandless magic," he teased.

Ginny grinned at him playfully. "Aren't you forgetting our strange new powers Harry? What makes you think I haven't?"

Harry abruptly pulled away, his face strained. Reading his darkening expression, Ginny could tell that she had said the wrong thing. Too late, she recalled his fears about their powers being linked to Dark magic. Gently stroking his cheek, she attempted to sooth him with her touch and words. "Hey you – why so serious?"

"Ginny, there's – there's so much you don't know about-" he ground out, before stopping as Ginny placed a finger on his lips.

"Yes, there is. But we discussed that yesterday, remember? You told Professor McGonagall that you needed some time before you could retell it all. I accept that Harry – you can tell me when you are ready."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, breathing deeply and still looking away. "But when you know-" he started.

"I'll still feel the same about you Harry," Ginny finished. "Nothing you could say would ever change that."

This time, her words had the desired effect, and Harry leaned back against the pillows, a look of relief painted across his face. He glanced at her, eyes straying once more to her neck.

"That goes both ways, you know Ginny. When _you're_ ready."

Ginny paled, her hand flying up to her neck. A vulnerable, hurt expression crossed her face, making her seem suddenly much younger. "Harry-", she began, her expression forlorn.

This time Harry stopped her with a gentle finger on her lips. "When you're ready Ginny - not before."

Ginny nodded, her eyes shining. She took a deep shuddering breath in, then lay back on Harry's chest. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

Harry broke the silence, attempting to lift the strained mood. "Merlin, we're complicated, aren't we?" His voice took on a teasing tone. "Bet you wish you'd stuck with Dean Thomas now – much more simple"

Ginny snorted, turning to slap him on the chest again. "Simple sounds about right. All he ever talked about was Muggle fussball-"

"Football," Harry corrected, grinning widely.

"That too," replied Ginny absently. She stretched her arms lithely over her head, cat-like, then settled back onto Harry's chest. "No, I reckon I'll stick with you for now – see how it turns out."

"Oh – thanks," said Harry in a mock hurt tone.

"Besides," Ginny went on, a lighter note in her voice. "We're married now, remember? No divorces in the magical community allowed."

Harry let out a brief bark of laughter, then leaned towards Ginny, his eyes shifting in a manner which quickened her pulse.

"That's right – I'd forgotten that," he murmured in a low, throaty voice. "And unless I'm much mistaken, I haven't gotten to kiss the bride yet."

Ginny's heart raced as his lips claimed hers.

Some considerable time later, when they had both managed to finally climb out of bed, Harry led Ginny down the stairs towards the Griffindor common room. He paused at the bottom door, turning to Ginny and lifting an eyebrow.

"You know," he said, grinning at her. "You look as if you've just spent an hour snogging someone."

Ginny flushed, running a hand over her tousled hair. "I _have_ just spent an hour snogging someone," she retorted.

"Oh?" murmured Harry playfully, drawing closer. "Any good?"

Ginny tipped her head to one side, pretending to consider. "Well, not as good as Dean-"

Harry growled with annoyance and she stopped, giggling. "Jealous Harry?"

"Wildly," replied Harry, grinning once more.

"Good."

Harry leaned in, about to kiss her again, when he paused, his hand still on the door handle. "Can you hear that?" he asked quietly.

On the other side of the door, there was an excited low murmuring. It sounded, Harry thought, then stopped, his face dropping in horror. It sounded exactly like a large number of people waiting to celebrate the arrival of a newly-married couple.

Ginny frowned in confusion. "Is it - people?" she replied.

Harry's hand began to turn the handle, then stopped. On the other side of the door, the excited sound of a large crowd suddenly stopped. The air felt electric with anticipation. He frowned, looking at Ginny.

"Ginny – you don't think – they couldn't have found out-"

Ginny's mind whirled, then her face coloured as the realisation hit. "You don't mean-" she began.

Harry's face paled. He made a visible effort to pull himself together, hand still frozen on the door handle. "They couldn't know – could they? I mean, only the two Professors and your parents know about the-"

He silently mouthed _marriage_.

"But they promised-" stammered Ginny, then fell silent.

"Do you seriously think that everyone in the Griffindor common room has just decided not to go to breakfast this morning?" asked Harry, panic creeping into his voice.

"Well – you never know," replied Ginny in a pleading tone.

"Uh-huh" said Harry flatly.

Ginny grimaced, then spat out a word which made Harry's hair stand on end.

"Ginevra Potter – do you kiss your husband with that mouth?" Harry said laughingly.

"Shut it Potter," growled Ginny. "Let's just get through this alright?"

Harry's hand, slick with sweat, turned the handle. "Okay, let's go."

The first thought which went through Harry's bewildered mind was that someone had let off the entire stock of Weasley's Wizarding Wheazes in one alimightly explosion. The roar of noise was deafening, the light from innumerable camera flashes blinding and Harry could swear that the temperature had just shot up by twenty degrees.

"Harry!"

Harry's head snapped round at Ginny's panicked voice. Looking at her wide-eyed expression he could instantly see this was too much for her to handle, following hard on the heels of yesterday's events.

Without thinking, without even being aware of his actions, he grabbed her hand, pictured the Burrow and Apperated on the spot.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – False Prophet

Taken off guard by the sudden Apperation, Ginny landed awkwardly and collapsed in a heap on the ground, Harry falling heavily on top of her. Breathing heavily, Harry twisted to take his weight off her and began to pull away. Ginny's arms shot around his back with surprising force as she clung on to him.

"What – was – that?" she gasped out. "Did we just Apperate inside Hogwarts again?

Harry groaned as a stabbing pain shot through his back. "I think I landed on something – something hard." Twisting around, he pulled out the shattered remains of a tiny house. "What _is_ it?" Harry said, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

Rubbing her ankle, Ginny looked over absently. "It looks like-"

A gruff, angry voice interrupted. "A home for a gnome!"

Snapping his head towards the voice, Harry saw an irate-looking gnome staring at him, foot tapping.

Harry smiled weakly. "Yours?", he asked apologetically.

By way of a response, the furious creature sank his sharp teeth into Harry's outstretched arm.

"Aargh" Harry cried out, swinging the gnome into the air with one convulsive movement. The gnome grimly clung on with its teeth, and Harry, hampered by Ginny still clinging to him, struggled to his knees, slipping on the long, wet grass. Shouting in agony, he managed to finally pull out his wand with his uninjured hand and Stun the gnome into letting go.

Falling to the ground with a heavy squelch, the repulsive creature shook its warty head, stood up and scampered off, cackling gleefully at Harry's moans of pain as it went.

"Thanks Ginny," Harry snarled in a pained voice as he clamped his bleeding hand under his armpit. "Your help was much appreciated".

Ginny fell backwards onto the ground, laughing uproariously. This did nothing for Harry's mood, and his scowl deepened.

"I-can't –help-it!" she gasped out between peals of laughter. "The Chosen One, taken down by a g-g-gnome!" And she descended into uncontrolled fits of giggles.

Harry's lip twitched at her expression, and he soon joined her in shared laughter.

Once the fits of laughter had finally died down, although Ginny still hiccupped with giggles from time to time, the pair had the chance to see where they had suddenly landed.

"I should have known," groaned Harry in mock pain. "Evil gnomes, long grass – got to be the Burrow!"

"Oi! Don't mock my home, Potter!" snapped Ginny, her eyes flaming.

"Just kidding Potter," replied Harry peaceably.

"Yeah, well, watch out – or next time I'll let the gnomes get you," giggled Ginny happily.

Dusting himself off, and helping Ginny to her feet, Harry stretched out his aching arms (noting with a scowl that his wounded hand was still bleeding) and looked around.

The last time he had been in the Burrow had been the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding when the Death Eaters had invaded. He knew that the Weasley's had been forced to abandon their beloved house during the war, and winced as he could see the obvious signs of damage caused by the Death Eaters.

_One more thing for them to thank you about Harry._

Shut it, thought Harry absently. He turned to smile at a rather dishevelled looking Ginny. "Okay, Gin?" he asked.

Ginny looked at him with a peculiar expression on her pretty face. "I'm fine now – but how-" Her voice trailed off as Harry shrugged.

"No idea – I just wanted to get you out of there."

Hand in hand, the couple walked silently up the path, drinking in the much loved and familiar sights and sounds.

Lowering his bruised body into a chair at the battered kitchen table, Harry contentedly watched Ginny bustling around the kitchen preparing breakfast. She had gone into full Mrs Weasley mode as soon as she entered the door, waving away Harry's attempts to help with a casual "bugger off, Potter" and the kitchen was soon filled with the delicious smell of frying bacon and sausages.

Harry's stomach let out a loud rumble, and Ginny glanced around, smiling at his hungry expression. If only she knew that it was _her_ I was hungry for, thought Harry, and blushed at the thoughts crossing his mind.

The simultaneous loud cracks from outside had Harry up out of his seat in an instant, his wand outstretched and body quivering for action. The loud voices of Mr and Mrs Weasley relaxed him at once, and he sat down without saying a word, stuffing his wand absently back into this pocket.

Watching this, Ginny was struck by how practised his movements were, and how unembarrassed he had been by his error. How many times had he done that in the last year, she wondered, and felt a wave of sadness for the unknown terrors he had faced without her. Not any more, she silently vowed. Never again.

"Harry? Ginny? Are you there?" Mrs Weasley's anxious voice carried clearly into the kitchen, even from outside.

Ginny sighed in exasperation. "In here Mum – no need to worry." Harry cocked an eyebrow at her note of displeasure.

"She's only looking out for us, you know."

"I know that," explained Ginny irritably. "I'm not a child anymore, though am I? Like you said last night, I'm a woman – well, almost." Harry's eyes flashed brightly and Ginny's mouth went dry as she took in the implications of her statement. _He couldn't mean that, could he? _Dark memories circled at the edges of her thoughts._ Did this mean-?_

The loud and bustling presence of Mrs Weasley broke their intimate moments. She immediately enveloped Ginny in one of her trademark bone-breaking hugs.

Mr Weasley followed more sedately, although Ginny could tell that he was just as relieved to see them save and sound. Crossing to Harry, he shook his hand vigorously and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you Harry."

Harry smiled up at him. "Good to see you too, Arthur." Ginny, struggling to free herself from her mother's embrace, noted his use of her father's first name. _He seems like a different man, now – so much more confident._ She blushed as she recalled his speech to her parents.

Mrs Weasley, having crushed half the bones in Ginny's arm, advanced towards Harry and gave him a similar hug. Ginny smiled warmly as she saw the pleased expression in Harry's face – he always seemed surprised at Mrs Weasley's affection.

"That was some show, Harry," said Mr Weasley, grinning widely. "Half the people in that common room couldn't believe their eyes, and the other half fainted clean away!

"I'm happy they were impressed Arthur", grinned back Harry. His face shifted, becoming more serious. Ginny sighed. Here we go again, she thought.

Harry hesitated. "Is there any news on how I can do it though? I still don't know how to lower the anti-Apperition wards at Hogwarts, and yet here we are."

Mr Weasley looked at Harry intently, then crossed towards him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Harry – there's nothing to be worried about. After your exhibition in the Headmaster's office yesterday, Professor McGonagall did some initial research using the Hogwarts library". A rueful expression crossed his face. "Well, what's left of it anyway."

He cleared his throat. "Anyhow, the clue to your sudden Apparition skills is in the wording of your question – 'here _we_ are'"

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, then his expression brightened. "You mean that it is like Professor McGonagall thought - because of _Ginny_ that I can-"

"Precisely, Harry!" boomed Mr Weasley. "Minerva found a documented case in the archives of a couple who lived in the forests of Estonia being able to influence each other to perform magic that neither could on their own."

Sensing that Harry needed more detail, Mr Weasley went on. "It seems that, in the cases of couples who share a strong – er – bond, let's say-"

"You mean couples in love like me and Harry," Ginny added helpfully, abandoning the breakfast to sit on Harry's lap.

"Er, yes dear, that's what I meant," replied Mr Weasley, wincing slightly. "Well, it seems that this couple in Estonia also made a Declaration of love under emotional circumstances – on the run from a pack of werewolves I believe – and found themselves able to perform quite extraordinary magic. Much like yourselves."

Ginny leaned forward eagerly. "So, _I _might be able to do more-"

"Quite possibly Ginny – once you've had a chance to get closer with each other – magically that is-" Mr Weasley paused for a moment, then continued. "With time it is quite likely that both of you will be able to access magic beyond your individual capabilities."

Harry's face broke into a wide smile. "So, Mr Weasley-"

"Arthur, Harry – no need to fall back on formalities"

Harry's smile grew even wider. "So – Arthur – does this also explain our Patronuses, and Ginny's wandless magic yesterday?"

"Very likely I would say. From what Minerva tells me, the other couple able to do this were not very magically strong – almost Squibs, really – yet collectively they were able to perform isolated examples of magic which would have rivalled the greatest wizards of their age."

"And as we know, both yourself and Ginny have – had – extremely magically powerful parents, and had proved yourself to be powerful witches and wizards in your own right long before this bond was formed. Who knows what you might be capable of?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, absently running a hand through his hair as he considered Mr Weasley's words. It did make sense, he supposed. If this bond did amplify magical abilities – he had always been told that his parents were magically gifted.

Looking over at Mrs Weasley, he shuddered as he remembered her duel with Bellatrix Lestrange. Behind her jovial exterior, she was not a witch to be underestimated.

Neither was Mr Weasley, come to think of it. He may not be as deadly in a duel, but Harry had seen plenty of examples of his Charm work to recognise a gifted wizard when he saw one. After all, he and Ron had used his charmed Ford Anglia to fly to Hogwarts in their second year.

The memory made him smile slightly, and Ginny, watching him intently as the emotions played across his face, relaxed. Although she still didn't know the reasons why, she had seen how distressed Harry had been at the thought of his magical skills being linked to Dark Arts.

Mrs Weasley interrupted his chain of thoughts by sliding a heaped plate of sausages, bacon and eggs onto the table in front of him, following it up with a tottering pile of toast and a steaming mug of tea.

"There dear, enough talk for now. You haven't had any breakfast – you must be starved!" She took a step back and looked critically at Harry. He had certainly lost weight on his travels this year – beneath the bruises on his face his cheekbones stood out sharply, and she had noted him tugging at the waist of his jeans to keep them up yesterday. She sighed, then busied herself preparing breakfast for the others.

Ginny was also noticing Harry's cheekbones, but her perspective was quite different. As she had noticed yesterday, Harry had really toughened up over the last year – mentally and physically. While he could do with putting some weight back on, he had also burned off the last traces of boyhood from his frame. He was most certainly all man now. Her small smile faltered as dark unpleasant memories bubbled up, but she pushed them firmly back down again. _Not now._ She looked broodingly out of the kitchen window for a moment before shaking it off, unaware of Harry's bright gaze watching her closely.

For a while there was no more noise in the cosy kitchen at the Burrow except the crunching of toast and occasional slurping of tea. Finally full, Harry pushed the plate away from him and rubbed his stomach, smiling contentedly.

"Molly, you're going to make me fat."

"Never dear – just a hearty breakfast, that's all. Why don't you and Ginny go and get changed – you look like you've slept in those clothes for a week."

Harry glanced down at his dirty and tattered clothes, and grinned ruefully. "Actually, Molly, I think I might have."

"Well, off with you then – I think there are some old clothes of yours in Ron's room."

Harry and Ginny got slowly to their feet, their stomachs groaning under the weight of a Weasley breakfast. As they reached the foot of the stairs, Harry turned at the sound of Mrs Weasley calling him. "Yes, Molly?"

Molly Weasley stood by the kitchen table, one hand on her husband's shoulder. "The house-elfs at Hogwarts were wanting to know where you wanted your other clothes sending."

Her hand twisted nervously on Mr Weasley's shoulder. "I told them to put them in with Ginny's – and send them straight to her – your – room."

Harry paused for a moment, considering, then crossed the kitchen in two long bounds and swept the anxious witch into a tight hug. "Thank you for understanding, Molly," he whispered in her ear.

"Forgive me, Harry – I'm such a silly old witch sometimes."

Harry shook his head, and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. "I won't hear it Molly – nothing to forgive."

Mr Weasley stood, and pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, slapping him on the back with his other hand. "Look after our daughter Harry," he choked.

Looking over at Ginny, Harry silently gestured and she ran to his side, joining in the group hug. Mr Weasley pulled his only daughter in a close embrace. "Look after our son, Ginny," he whispered, so quietly that only she heard.

Kissing his cheek, she whispered back, "I intend to, Dad."

Reluctantly freeing themselves from their affectionate embraces, Harry and Ginny walked slowly up the stairs, Ginny sliding one arm around his waist as they climbed.

Arthur Weasley watched them go, then turned to his silently weeping wife. "We had to let her go at some point, Mollywobbles," he murmured, taking her in his arms.

Molly leaned against his chest, wiping her tears away. "I know that Arthur," she sighed. "I could see that last night – it's just hard, you know?"

Kissing his wife gently on the forehead, Arthur nodded his agreement. His little girl was all grown up.

Some time later, refreshed by a shower and change of clothes, Harry wandered idly around the kitchen – alone. Ginny, her eyes sparking at the idea of them sharing a room, had insisted on performing some 'improvements' before he could see it, and had enlisted the aid of her mother.

Harry sat down at the table, shaking his head in mild disbelief. How mother and daughter could be arguing about his sharing a room with Ginny one moment, and decorating their room together the next, was a type of magic he didn't even pretend to understand.

He looked around the kitchen, not sure what to do. Mr Weasley had flooed back to the Ministry to help with the restoration of normality. Kingsley Shackebolt, as the new Minister for Magic, had offered him time off on compassionate leave, but he had refused. "I can honour my son's memory anywhere," he had said. Harry felt a surge of pride as an honorary member of such a brave and loving family as the Weasleys.

His musings were interrupted by a faint screeching sound. He glanced up in time to see a large, feathery shape hit the window with a resounding crash, and slide down out of sight.

Jumping from his chair, Harry rushed outside to rescue Errol, the Weasley's ancient owl. Errol was unconscious as usual, so Harry took him back inside and placed him carefully on the kitchen table. Gently opening his claws, Harry retrieved a couple of letters and a copy of today's _Daily Prophet._

Dropping the letters on the table, Harry decided that he would make a cup of tea and read the paper. Molly was always telling him to 'make himself at home,' he smiled to himself – in light of recent developments, now appeared to be the right time to start.

Settling himself in his favourite chair, Harry took a large swig of tea as he flipped the paper open and began reading the front page.

In the next instant the hot tea was spattered all over the newspaper, table and comatose Errol as Harry stared in disbelief at the front page story.

A large picture of a dishevelled-looking Harry and Ginny, squinting in shock, took up half the front page, underneath a huge headline which read _Hero Harry Hurriedly Hitched! _Harry and Ginny's images opened their mouths in shock and vanished, only to reappear and repeat their actions.

Harry's mind was whirling. The picture was obviously one of those taken by the onlookers in the Gryffindor common room just as he and Ginny Apperated away. Wiping the tea smears from the newspaper, he opened it read the _Shocking revelations!_ promised on the inside page.

His heart sank as he spotted the name of the reporter: Rita Skeeter. Harry groaned, sinking his head in his hands. With nervous hands, he picked up the newspaper, and read:

_Handsome hero, Harry Potter, the jewel in the wizarding crown, The Chosen One, The-Boy-Who-Lived…_

The article went on in a similar vein for quite a while. Harry feverishly scanned down, desperate, and dreading, to see the details.

…_the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in over a century, has sensationally married in a secret ceremony the day after defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the most powerful Dark wizard of all time, a man so evil that…_

Impatiently ignoring the prolonged section devoting to describing Voldemort, Harry read on, his stomach in turmoil - Mrs Weasley's fine breakfast threatening to make a reappearance.

…_are at a loss to discover why Harry, only 16 years old…_

"I'm nearly eighteen," growled Harry through clenched teeth.

…_would marry the remarkably plan Ginny Weasey, of no particular magical background…_

Harry's fist slammed into the kitchen table, sending the full cup of tea flying. Errol let out an indignant squawk and laboured into the air, flapping slowly to his perch.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny's voice floated down from upstairs. Harry froze. He could even imagine how Ginny would react to _this._ Making an enormous effort to control his angrily shaking voice, he responded as cheerily as he could.

"Fine Gin – just, err, reviving Errol."

Ginny's voice drifted nearer as she called down the stairs. "Has he brought the _Daily Prophet_? I want to read all those nice things they'll be saying about you."

Harry let out a hysterical laugh.

"Harry – are you okay?" Ginny's voice sounded concerned, and Harry heard a creak as she began to move down the stairs.

Horrified, Harry rushed to the foot of the stairs, and called up, "Sorry – something made me – laugh. No, no _Daily Prophet_. He must have forgotten it."

Ginny paused in her descent. "Bloody useless owl – I really wanted to see a great big picture of you looking heroic."

Repressing another maniacal giggle, Harry took a deep breath and called up casually, "How are the improvements coming along?"

A soft giggle floated down the stairs. "You'll have to wait and see, Mr Potter."

Silently chewing on his knuckles, Harry removed his fist from his mouth long enough to reply, "Can't wait!" His voice was rather higher-pitched than normal, but thankfully Ginny didn't appear to notice. He heard a creak as she moved away again, and the sound of her bedroom door shutting.

Dashing back to the table, Harry hurled himself into the seat and poured over the story, his anger mounting as he read on.

_This reporter wonders how such an unassuming witch could snare the mighty Harry Potter. Miss Weasey-_

"Weasley, you foul hag, Weasley!" roared Harry, then covered his mouth with his hands, holding his breath. Evidently the improvements had reached a critical point, as there was no answering call from upstairs.

Screwing up the paper, he hurled it across the kitchen, resolving not to read anymore.

A few tense minutes later, he raced across the kitchen and brought it back to the table, smoothing it out with trembling hands.

…_Miss Weasey has something of a track record in snaring young wizards well above her station…_

The corners of the newspapers began to smoke as Harry counted slowly to ten, practising a breathing exercise he had seen once on Muggle television.

"I am a calm, blue ocean. I am a c-calm blue ocean. I-am-calm-blue-bloody-ocean."

Opening his eyes, Harry read on, silently repeating his mantra.

_This reporter has learnt that Miss Weasey has some small skill in Charms…_

"She's only the best in her year, you pathetic, vindictive, troll-breathed insect!"

…_and urges the Ministry to investigate a possibility of serial Love Charm abuse…_

Harry, shaking with barely restrained fury, threw the paper down onto the table. A vein in his forehead was pulsing dangerously, his eyes narrowed and cold. Vowing to read on, if only so that he could decide exactly how many ways he was going to hex Rita Skeeter into next century, he pulled it towards him.

_Of course, there are other possibilities. Reports from Hogwarts suggest an usually physical relationship between the two underage magicians, and the speed of their marriage could suggest-_

There was a sudden flash of fire in Harry's eyes and the tattered _Daily Prophet_ burst into bright blue flames. In an instant, it was reduced to a small pile of ashes, cascading out of Harry's hands and drifting lightly down to land on the table.

For several moments, Harry sat transfixed at the table. Dimly, he was aware of the trilling of birds in the garden, the gentle ticking of the Weasley family clock and the other comforting noises associated with the Burrow, but he felt cold inside.

Finally, Harry was woken from his private, bitter thoughts by the sound of laughter from upstairs. Ginny and her mother were obviously having a whale of a time redecorating.

Resting his aching head in his hands, Harry stared morosely at the grained and battered surface of the Weasley's well-worn table. He had no idea what to do next. He had resigned himself to the fact that news-stories about _him_ would always be embarrassing, and he knew all too well of Rita Skeeter's style of reporting, but this-

He shook his head despairingly, absently wiping at his hot eyes with one hand. This change in his relationship with Ginny was confusing and hurried and contradictory and crazy; but it was also intoxicating and tender and precious to him.

He straightened as he was filled with new resolve. He would not allow the likes of Rita Skeeter to ruin _this_ part of his life. When Mr Weasley came home, he would ask his advice on how to proceed, but he was determined to have that malicious story retracted by _The Daily Prophet_.

Feeling better now, he looked at the kitchen table. With a quick flick of his wand, the spilled tea and ashes of the newspaper vanished, and he crossed to Errol, who was leaning precariously on his perch.

Stroking the elderly owl's head with a finger, Harry whispered, "Sorry if I startled you, Errol." Lifting his feathery head towards Harry's touch, Errol blinked his large eyes blearily, and clicked his beak in an exhausted manner. Closing his eyes, he settled down to sleep, head tucked under his wing.

Crossing to the kitchen window, Harry leaned out, breathing in the soft summer air. He felt curiously calm, although still mortified by the public announcement of his marriage._ Let them try to drag us down_, he thought fiercely. _Just let them._

There was a series of earsplitting cracks as several people Apperated outside the Burrow at once. Harry tensed, then relaxed as he recognised Ron's voice.

"Now come on guys, let's give him a chance to explain."

Harry frowned. Ron's tone was panicked and pleading. Who was he with, and who needed to explain?

The truth came crashing down on his head in a sudden realisation, and Harry's face turned white as he heard the slurred voices of Charlie and Bill Weasley angrily reply.

"You've sheen the story, R-Ron – that's my sishter!"

"I'm gunna kill him – I'm going to rip his puny head right off!"

The elder Weasley brothers evidently also read the_ Daily Prophet._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – You hold him, I'll hit him

Harry backed away as the kitchen door slammed open, spraying splinters of wood over the floor. A large, burly figure staggered in, weaving across the kitchen, clutching a copy of _The Daily Prophet _in one huge fist.

While he had met Charlie Weasley several times before, Harry had never appreciated until now just how _big_ he was. Years as a dragon handler had given Charlie broad, muscular shoulders and bulging biceps. Dressed as he was in a stained t-shirt, Harry could clearly see his tensed muscles threatening to rip through the thin material. His mind wandering wildly, Harry recalled stealing one of Dudley's comic books once – _The Incredible Hulk Returns_. As he backed away across the kitchen, Harry felt certain that Charlie's skin had a rather greenish tinge to it.

A wet smacking noise by the door alerted him to the arrival of the oldest Weasley brother – Bill. The Gringott's curse breaker announced his arrival by tottering through the door and falling, face-first, onto the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

Pulling himself laboriously to his feet, Bill looked around blearily, finally focusing on Harry's terrified face.

"Thar he ish!" slurred Bill. Judging from the potent fumes which washed over Harry in waves, he and Charlie had been attempting to drown themselves in Firewhiskey.

Slowly approaching Harry, brandishing the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as if it were a wand, Charlie advanced on the petrified younger wizard.

"What the _hell_ have you been doing with my little sister, Potter?" roared Charlie.

"Thash right – shlimy dragon turd's been shagging my _shister_!" slurred Bill, collapsing weakly to his knees.

Harry's eyes were wide, and his breath came in quick pants. He considered going for his wand, but from the drunken glare on Charlie's face, magic wasn't going to help him stop a fifteen-stone, outraged brother.

"Start talking Potter – or start running for your life!" bellowed Charlie, prodding Harry painfully in the chest with the newspaper with each word.

Harry gulped as he felt the kitchen counter press into his legs. He had run out of room to escape. "Charlie, Bill – it's not what it seems-" he began weakly.

"Not what it _sheems!" _crowed Bill incredulously, finally making it back to his feet.

Harry's eyes cut towards the doorway, where Ron and Percy, looking rather hung-over and sheepish, hovered nervously. "Now Bill, you said-" began Ron.

"Shut it, Wonnikins!" growled Bill, staggering towards Harry. Ron gulped and subsided into silence. His eyes stared apologetically at Harry.

"Sho, tell me, Potter – are you, or are you not – or are you-" Bill paused, looking confused, then shook his head drunkenly, and continued, "married to my sixteen-year old _shister_!"

Not knowing what to say, Harry breathed in convulsively and gave the tiniest of nods.

"Right!" slurred Bill, lurching forwards. "You hold him-"

"I'll hit him," continued Charlie dangerously.

Bill hesitated, looking puzzled. "No, _you _hold him, and _I'll _hit him!"

"Bill, you're so drunk you'd miss Hagrid – _I'll _hit him, _you_ hold him."

"Thash what I shaid," agreed Bill, and they advanced together.

Resolving to stand his ground, Harry tensed, ready for the first blow to land, when there was a blinding burst of orange light, an ear-splitting roaring, and Bill and Charlie were jerked backwards off their feet and hurled into the wall at the other end of the kitchen. A cloud of plaster enveloped the kitchen and Harry coughed, waving his hand in front of his face to clear the air.

Standing at the foot of the stairs, arms folded and a bright orange light burning in her brown eyes, the small figure of Ginny Weasley stood glaring at her brothers.

As the dust and plaster subsided, Harry gazed in amazement at the groaning bodies of Bill and Charlie, now crumpled on the ground fifteen feet away. The wall above them was split into a network of cracks and fissures, and there were a matching set of huge dents where their bodies had hit.

"What the _hell_ were you trying to do to my husband?" shrieked Ginny, her face furious. Harry, once again finding himself torn between fear and desire, gazed at Ginny in awe. _My husband_, he thought numbly. How lucky am I?

Slowly stirring, Charlie was the first to struggle back to his feet, followed more laboriously by Bill. Harry gaped – if he had hit a wall as hard as that, he would be booking himself into St Mungo's for a month. He wondered idly if Firewhiskey had some hitherto unknown magical healing properties.

Crossing the kitchen to stand protectively by Harry, Ginny glared icily at her drunken older brothers, shifting her eyes to take in Ron and Percy, who were stood by the kitchen door looking glad that they hadn't got involved. Looking at the battered bodies of the older Weasleys, Harry couldn't blame them.

"So, it's true?" snarled Charlie angrily, massaging an aching shoulder. "You're married?"

Ginny blinked, taken aback. "How on earth-" she started.

"We can read, Ginny!", snarled Charlie. He let out an involuntary hiss of pain as he bent to pick up the tattered copy of _The Daily Prophet_. "Front page news, don't you know?"

Ginny turned to Harry, a question in her dark eyes. Harry nodded guiltily. "I was just coming to tell you," he quickly said, not wanting to risk her ire. She looked at him for a second, her lip quivering. Her head snapped round at Bill's slurred voice.

"Thash right! And we know why, don't we?"

Glaring at her beloved older brother, Ginny spoke icily. "Oh, Bill – do tell?" Her voice was laced with repressed fury.

Glancing at his inebriated brother, Charlie attempted to shoot him a warning glance, but Bill waved it off drunkenly.

"Well, ish all there, isn't it?" He waved generally in the direction of the newspaper. "He hash been – forcing himshelf on you, and – and – hesh knocked you up!"

This time, the thunderous roar was even louder as Bill and Charlie were catapulted through the kitchen wall, leaving a gaping hole behind. There was a loud splash as they landed in the pond outside.

Stalking towards the ragged hole, Ginny stepped through, following her brothers. Shooting Ron an uneasy glance, Harry followed quickly behind.

Covered in Gillyweed, the two brothers were feebly splashing around, dragging themselves onto the muddy bank of the pond. They cowered as Ginny's rage exploded over them.

"Not that it's anything to do with either of you, but Harry has never so much as made one inappropriate move on me, or even _hinted_ that he wanted to-to…" Her voice trailed off as a sob broke out.

Harry blinked, confused. Was he imagining it, or was there a hurt, regretful tone in her voice?

Cautiously approaching her, he softly put his hands on her shoulders from behind. "Ginny?" he tentatively asked.

Whirling around, Ginny's face looked fiercely at Harry. For a split-second, Harry thought that he was about to experience her new magical power firsthand, then her face softened. "Harry", she sobbed, flinging her arms around his neck.

Harry held her close as her tears soaked his collar. Something wasn't right here, he thought. They needed to talk. Today.

Slowly, still holding her closely, Harry and Ginny trudged back to the house, ducking through the hole in the wall. As they entered, they stopped at the sight of Mrs Weasley, who had evidently been keeping out of the way. Ginny smiled wanly at her mother through her tears. "All yours, mum," she muttered as Harry guided her to a seat.

Tenderly stroking her daughter's arm in passing, Mrs Weasley stepped out through the wreckage of the wall, carefully avoiding the blocks strewn over the ground, and advanced on the pond containing her eldest sons.

Looking at each other guiltily, Bill and Charlie slithered back into the water and sank under the surface of the pond.

By the time that Mrs Weasley had finished haranguing her sons, brewed up a Sobering Draught and repaired the wall, Mr Weasley had returned.

Stepping in through the door, his eyes swept worriedly over the assembled family, sat silently at the kitchen table. "Ah," he said, relaxing slightly. "I was worried that they might have been some unpleasantness."

The family all turned and stared at him wordlessly.

"You have, I take it, seen today's _Prophet_?", he continued, looking directly at Harry and Ginny. Ginny, her eyes still red, nodded at the newspaper pages strewn over the table, ripped into long ragged shreds by her hands.

Mr Weasley paused, his face looking grave. "Perhaps, however, I could interest you in tomorrow's paper though?"

"Dad, we're really not wanting to read-" began Ginny tiredly, but her father interrupted her, placing the paper down in front of them.

"Please, Ginny – I think you will find it more to your liking."

Looking curiously at Arthur Weasley's enthusiastic expression, Harry reached for the paper, turning it over to read the front page.

_An apology to the Potters_

_The owners of the Daily Prophet would like to express their deepest apologies and regret for the slanderous untruths printed in yesterday's Daily Prophet…_

Ginny gasped softly, her dull eyes suddenly alight again. Harry, confused, looked up at Mr Weasley's eager face. "Arthur, I don't understand. Did you-?" he enquired.

"Nothing to do with me Harry. It seems that the offices of the _Prophet_ were flooded with owls this morning as soon as the story went out, all denouncing the story, calling for Rita Skeeter's dismissal and threatening to sue the newspaper!"

Mr Weasley, paused, beaming round at his stunned audience. "Apparently, there were so many Howlers going off that you couldn't hear yourself speak for miles around. It seems that a large number of the people present at your speech yesterday had written in to set matters right. Well, you can see for yourself – read it out Harry."

Picking up the paper with shaking hands, Harry read aloud, starting from the beginning for the benefit of the others.

_An apology to the Potters_

_The owners of the Daily Prophet would like to express their deepest apologies and regret for the slanderous untruths printed in yesterday's Daily Prophet. It seems that a former employee of ours, blinded by jealousy and malice, deliberately misled the owners into printing these regrettable falsehoods._

_We would like to thank the many witches and wizards who took the time to write in and correct this story, in particular…_

The article went on to list the people who gave interviews to refute the story. A lump rose in Harry's throat as he noted the names of Minvera McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid and Arthur Weasley amongst them. He glanced up at Mr Weasley, his eyes shining. "You gave an interview?"

Mr Weasley looked down at the young man he regarded as a son, smiling. "Of course Harry – you're family," he stated simply.

Harry rose to his feet, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thanks – Dad," he murmured, hot tears spilling down his cheeks at Mr Weasley's kind words. He turned to Mrs Weasley, who was already on her feet, reaching for him. "You too, Mum," he croaked as her arms tightened around him.

A trio of sharp cracks interrupted the tender moment. Seconds later, dragging a heavily inebriated George with them, Hermione and Fleur strode in, glaring at their respective partners.

"There you are," said Hermione sharply, her eyes narrowing at Ron's guilty expression.

"Bill, where have you been?" exclaimed Fleur in her soft, lilting voice. "We left you in the Hogshead to fetch the Sobering Charms-"

"-and when we returned, you had vanished!" Hermione added. Staring at Ron's reddening face, she added, "Without leaving a note, I might add."

The tips of his ears burning, Ron looked down at the table, unable to meet her eyes.

"Now that we are all here," stated Fleur firmly, "can someone please explain what has been going on since yesterday?"

Ginny nudged Harry as he sat back down. "She's right – we may as well tell them the whole story at once," she muttered.

Harry sighed, then his expression brightened. "Ladies first?" he offered cheerily. Ginny just stared at him for a moment.

Sighing again, Harry turned to Mrs Weasley. "Molly, can I trouble you to make some coffee? This is going to be a long story."

From his position sprawled on the floor, George piped up cheerfully. "How about a nice glass of Firewhiskey?"

"No!" roared everyone unanimously.

George shrugged, unabashed. "Suit yourselves – party poopers." His head lolled back and he began to snore lightly.

As Harry had suspected, their story took a long time to tell. Patiently answering questions from all those gathered at the table, Harry and Ginny took turns to tell sections of the story. Without talking to each other about it, they were completely open – their previous embarrassment at the vows they had exchanged forgotten.

They certainly had an attentive audience. The extended family gathered around the table gasped in shock at the Dementor attack, sighed softly at the tender exchange of vows, sat in awe-struck silence at the description of Harry's Apperation and finally slumped in their seats, overwhelmed.

Typically, George was the first to break the silence. Taking a large gulp of Sobering Draught, he yawned, looking amusedly at Harry. "Well mate, you certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet!" he chuckled. Glancing at Ginny, he said "You could have given old Bill and Charlie some advance warning though sis!" His eyes glittered with amusement.

Looking embarrassed, Bill and Charlie muttered their apologies to Harry, keenly aware of Ginny's eyes on them as they spoke. Grinning, Harry shook his head slightly. "Don't worry about it, guys," he said lightly. "I think that Ginny has spoken for both of us," he continued, breaking into laughter.

Rubbing his shoulder ruefully, Charlie nodded. "You know what Harry – I reckon you're right." He reached across the table, holding out a rough, calloused hand. "Sorry though mate – shouldn't have doubted you."

Harry shook it firmly, nodding quietly. Wincing from the dig in the ribs he had just received from his wife, Bill quickly held out his hand. "Charlie's right Harry – we should have known better. Sorry."

There was a significant throat-clearing from beside Harry. Looking at each other worriedly, Bill and Charlie rose as one, rushed around the table and hugged Ginny tightly, hastily muttering heartfelt apologies. Slightly mollified, Ginny hugged them back, whispering, "Next time – ask first, okay?"

Bill and Charlie nodded eagerly, sitting back down with a relieved expression.

Looking at the clock, Mrs Weasley exclaimed at the lateness of the hour, and began quickly assigning bedrooms.

"Bill and Fleur, you go to Bill's room obviously. Charlie – can you share with George? Is that okay, George?" she added nervously. George nodded, his face solemn. Percy-" she hesitated. "Are you staying tonight, dear?" she enquired hesitantly.

Percy quickly gave her a hug. "Of course I am, Mum." Mrs Weasley beamed.

"Your old room then – it's just as you left it. Now – who does that leave? Ginny, you and Harry will be in your room, and Ron-"

"Hold on a minute, Mum!" exclaimed Ron. "Harry and Ginny share a room now?"

Bill and Charlie looked uneasily at each other, but sensibly kept quiet. Mrs Weasley's face flushed with anger as she glared at the mutinous expression on her youngest son's face.

"Ronald Weasley, need I remind you that Harry and Ginny are _married?_" she inquired acerbically. Ginny nudged Harry, whispering, "Wasn't that _my_ line she just stole?" Stifling a grin, Harry nudged her in return.

Ron, quailing before his mother's wrath, shut his mouth with an audible click.

"Now," said Mrs Weasley, patting her hair into place absently. "Where was I? Oh, Hermione," she said, smiling at the tall witch warmly. "You can stay in Ron's room-"

Ron's face brightened considerably at this.

"And Ron, you can sleep in the attic tonight," finished Mrs Weasley.

Ron's face dropped, scowling. "But Mum," he protested. "Harry gets to stay with Ginny-"

"Ronald," spoke Mr Weasley exasperatedly. "Your mother has already explained that Harry and Ginny are married. You and Hermione are not. That is the end of this discussion." His voice had a note of finality in it.

Hermione, blushing frantically, spoke quickly. "We quite understand Mr and Mrs Weasley. I, for one-" she shot an acidic look at Ron, "-expected nothing else."

Grabbing Ron, she shoved him up the stairs, whispering heatedly to him. As they disappeared up the stairs, Ron's voice could be heard complaining.

"But the _ghoul_ lives in the attic Hermione – I'm sharing with a _ghoul!_"

"Well get used to it Ronald – after that little display you won't be sharing a bed with anything else for a long time to come!"

There was an appreciative chuckle from the remaining Weasleys below. "I reckon that Hermione will fit right in, don't you Mum?" giggled Ginny.

"Quite right, dear," replied Mrs Weasley. "Now, off to bed with the lot of you."

The kitchen slowly emptied as the remaining Weasleys wearily went to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Truth and consequences

At the door to their room, Ginny stopped, turning to Harry. Even in the dim light, Harry could see that she wore a nervous expression. "Ginny – are you okay?" Harry asked quietly.

Forcing a bright expression, Ginny replied lightly, "Of course Harry – can you just give me a few moments before you come in?" Without waiting for a reply, she slipped through the door, closing it softly behind her.

After about ten minutes, Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable standing outside the door in the dark. He was unsure whether to knock, or wait for Ginny to call him in.

When they had shared a bed the previous night at Hogwarts, they had both been so tired that they had just collapsed into bed without bothering to undress, or barely talk. This time though, Harry was acutely aware of the fact that Ginny was probably getting undressed just the other side of the door.

He swallowed nervously, looking at the door to their room. _Their room_, he thought disbelievingly. It was like something out of a dream. With a start, Harry realised that it had only been two days since the battle – it already felt like a different lifetime. Things had changed so quickly between them – it was no surprise that they both felt nervous about sharing a room together. _Almost as if we're married, or something_, Harry thought ironically.

Finally tired with waiting, Harry tapped quietly on the door. Ginny's quiet voice responded. "Come in, Harry." Turning the handle, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Ginny was stood in the centre of the room. Her long hair swung loosely around her shoulders and she was wearing- "Ginny, is that my old Quidditch top?" Harry asked.

Ginny blushed. "I found it in my trunk with your other stuff. Do you mind?" she asked tentatively.

Harry's mouth dried as he took in the sight. His long-sleeved top swamped Ginny's slight frame, but in his mind this did nothing to detract from her appearance. As she was several inches smaller than Harry the top reached down below her knees, exposing only a few inches of slim calf and shapely ankle above her petite bare feet.

Harry gulped. Although she was, by any standards, modestly dressed, he honestly felt that he had never seen anything so attractive in his life.

"Well?" said Ginny, a half-smile faltering on her lips. "Do you like it?"

Harry took a step forward, eager to show her how much he loved her attire, when he took in her gesture. She meant the room. Stopping, he looked around, taking it in for the first time.

The last, and only time, he had been in her room, it had been small and bright, plastered with Hollyhead Harpies posters. The room he was now standing in was entirely different.

Ginny must have convinced her mum to use an Enlargement Charm, as the space he was looking at now was several times larger than he remembered, and there was even a half-open door leading off to a small bathroom.

Taking in the room as he glanced around, Harry's mouth dropped open. There was a sophisticated, understated and undeniably _adult_ feel to the room. Decorated in subtle shades of soft green and brown – the same colours as their eyes, Harry noted – the decor was simple, yet tasteful. By the window, which still looked out over the orchard but seemed to have also been enlarged, stood a large, solid wood sleigh-type bed.

"Ginny – it's amazing," Harry whispered in awe, still looking around. He looked back at her anxious face. "Perfect." His stomach flipped as he gazed at her, then found his eyes straying inexorably towards the large bed.

Ginny smiled properly for the first time, then her face fell as she followed his eyes to the bed. Crossing to stand beside it, she gestured nervously, suddenly speaking quickly.

"It was Mum's idea – the one bed. I told her not to, but she insisted. If you want, we could replace it with two beds, if that would be-" Her voice trailed off, and she looked downwards.

Harry frowned – what was going on here? Crossing towards Ginny, he gently placed a hand under her chin, lifting her head to meet his eyes. Her beautiful brown eyes were clouded with doubt and confusion, her expression full of shame, and something else – something very much like fear.

"Ginny," Harry spoke quietly and soothingly. "What's wrong?"

Ginny's eyes widened, and she tore herself away from his grasp, moving to the window and turning her back on him. Harry looked at her hunched shoulders, his heart suddenly frozen with fear.

"Ginny!" His voice was hard and anxious. Ginny flinched at his tone, but remained at the window. "Ginny," Harry repeated more softly. "We need to talk – you need to tell me what's going on. Don't think I haven't noticed – I have."

He crossed towards her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Is it something about last year – when you were at Hogwarts?"

She flinched again, and Harry knew that he had guessed correctly.

"Ginny, we agreed that there would be no more secrets, didn't we?"

Her head bobbed reluctantly, but her shoulders hunched even higher, her body quivering.

Harry continued, his heart reaching out to his forlorn wife. "I'm ready to tell you now – about what happened to me. It was awful and terrifying and I can hardly bear to think about it, but you need to know it – for both of our sakes."

He paused, shuddering as a kaleidoscope of images flashed through his mind. He looked directly into Ginny's agonized face, searching for the answer to his heart-felt question as he murmured, "Don't you feel the same? Gin?"

Moving away from him once more, Ginny took a few steps back into the centre of the room, still facing away from him, considering. Harry remained silent, knowing that she was battling with some inner demon and didn't need further interruptions from him.

Slowly, reluctantly, Ginny began to turn to face him. She raised her head, meeting his gaze for the first time. Her hands were twisting nervously, one foot curled shyly behind the other, and she was biting her lip as a conflicting wave of emotions and desires faced across her face.

Harry stood stock still. He knew that she was on the verge of telling him what had been holding her back from him.

"Harry." Her voice was a whisper, barely audible. She looked into his eyes, her own wide with fear and self-reproach. "Am I – am I-" She stopped for a moment, struggling to carry on. Her eyes filled with tears as she completed the question, face burning brightly.

"Am I – sexy?"

Harry was momentarily taken aback by her question. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't _that_. A wave of primal desire washed over him as he gazed at her slight, trembling figure, and he crossed to her in one long bound, a low growl erupting from his chest.

Pulling her firmly to him, he crushed his lips to hers, for the first time allowing her to feel the depths of his attraction. He slid one hand down her back, pulling her closer to him, in that moment wanting to consume every last molecule of her being. Her stiff posture melted as her arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer to her with equal fervour.

After an indeterminate amount of time, her arms slipped from around his neck. Harry, taking this as a cue, reluctantly pulled his lips from hers, his breathing harsh.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked roughly, panting for breath.

Ginny nodded, struggling for breath herself. Then her eyes widened and she burst into harsh, wracking sobs, her whole body shuddering as a torrent of emotion was released.

Half-guiding, half-carrying her to the bed, they sat on the edge, Harry pulling her closely to him as she buried her head in his chest. Stroking her hair tenderly, Harry whispered soft, inarticulate noises of sympathy and understanding as her overburdened heart emptied itself in a rush of emotion.

Some time later, Ginny's sobs slowed, turning to sniffs and she looked up at Harry through reddened eyes. "Sorry," she whispered. Harry shook his head, gently wiping the tears away from her face. "No need to apologise," he muttered back. Ginny nodded, using the sleeve of his Quidditch top to rub her face vigorously.

Giving her a moment to recover, Harry waited until he sensed the moment was right. "Want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Ginny nodded, her eyes free of the doubt and fear that Harry had noted at several times over the last few days.

"Yes – I need to, I think."

She shivered, and Harry wordlessly Summoned a blanked draped over a chair near the door, pulling it around her shoulders. Ginny smiled, pulling close to him, and began to tell her story.

"Most of what went on last year at Hogwarts, you probably know, or could guess." Harry nodded. He had heard about her attempt to steal the Gryffindor sword, and he could well imagine what a school run by Death Eaters would be like. He shivered himself, suddenly cold.

Ginny loosened the blanket, shifting it to cover both of them. Legs drawn up close to her chest, she continued. "Well, it was as bad as you could imagine, but then it got worse. The Carrows were using Defence Against the Dark Arts to teach Dark Arts. They made students curse each other, even with Unforgivable Curses, although of course they said it was only unforgivable to not use such useful spells-" She paused for a moment, lost in the memories.

Harry spoke quietly, his voice uneven. "Is that where you got-" His fingers traced tentatively over the raised scar on her neck. Ginny shuddered, pulling his hand away. "No. That was later." Her voice was empty and desolate.

After a short pause, she continued. "Neville and Luna – well, if it hadn't been for them, I don't think I would have got through." She looked up at Harry, pride shining in her eyes. "You should have seen them, Harry. Neville was so fearless, so defiant. And Luna took care of everyone. When they took her from the train-" Her voice broke off, eyes welling with tears again. "Sorry, Harry – this is hard, you know?"

She shook her head, "Of course you do. Anyway, after Christmas, once they had taken Luna, things got much worse. The DA was causing major havoc around the school, helped by the teachers wherever possible. Even Snape-" she broke off again. "Harry, is there something I don't know about him?"

Harry nodded, unable to speak. Ginny continued. "He seemed – reluctant, somehow to punish us. Not like the Carrows. He would give us detentions with Hagrid, which of course were no punishment at all."

Harry grinned, thinking of them huddled in Hagrid's warm hut, drinking tea.

Ginny let a long breath out. "Anyway, the night I got this-" She pointed at her neck, indicating the scar. Harry held her tighter, aware of her mounting distress. "That was the worst of all."

"Neville and I had been putting up our banners, setting up traps, the usual sort of thing, when we were cornered by the Carrows, along with Malfoy and a couple of Slytherins. We fought them off as long as we could – Neville took out Malfoy with a Stunning spell, knocked him unconscious – but there were too many of them. Before we knew it, they had taken us down – to the dungeons."

She shifted again, her breath speeding up as she pictured the scene.

"They said that we knew where you were Harry – you, Ron and Hermione. First Amycus Carrow made me watch while he used the Cruciatus curse on Neville. He tortured poor Neville for hours. It didn't seem to matter that Neville didn't knew anything – he was enjoying it."

Harry's eyes were alight with fury. He knew that, for Neville, the Cruciatus curse was the thing he feared the most.

"Once Neville was unconscious – he turned on me. That was when I got the scar, Harry. I'm not sure how long they tortured me for – it felt like hours, but it could have been minutes."

Harry nodded, unable to speak. His eyes stung as hot tears coursed down his face silently. Ginny looked up, and softly wiped them away, smiling sadly at Harry.

She looked down. "After that – it got really bad." Harry's fists clenched. "Worse than the Cruciatus curse?" he whispered.

Ginny nodded. "It was Malfoy's suggestion. He seemed – unnerved by the torture – kept suggesting Veritaserum instead. Finally, he went away and came back with some. The first time they tried to make me take it, I spat it back in that foul ferret's face-"

Harry smiled slightly, awed by her bravery.

"He got angry then, hit me here-" She rubbed her cheekbone, wincing as if it still hurt. Harry's blood ran cold, and he silently vowed that he would get even with Malfoy for that.

"When I had taken the Veritaserum, of course, they could find out what ever they wanted. It didn't take long before they discovered how – how I felt about you, Harry." She squeezed his hand. "Once they realised that I loved you – it's like they went mad."

Her voice dropping, Ginny went on, stumbling over her words, rushing to get them out as quickly as possibly. "They swore that before the night was over, they would get me to give you up – to say that I didn't love you. After a while – a few hours I think – when they couldn't make me say it – that's when Alecto Carrow took over."

Her voice was almost a whisper. Harry tightened his grip over her shoulders, and she looked up gratefully.

"She said – she said that she had been practising – _inventing_ – she called it, some new, experimental curses." Ginny's voice was shaking now – this was the crux of her story. "She described one to me, threatened to curse me with it." Ginny fell silent.

Softly, hardly daring to ask, Harry said, "What was it, Ginny?"

"She called it a Chastity Curse. Once cast, it would make any woman – stop any man-" Ginny swallowed, her voice shaking worse than before.

"She said that it would make me unappealing to men – physically – that no man would ever want to – you know, would find me-" Her voice stopped and she turned to Harry, crying softly into his chest once more.

Harry felt bile rising as the full implications of her earlier question washed over him. _Am I – sexy?_ Ginny's words haunted him now, her strange comments to Bill and Charlie earlier made perfect sense.

_Harry has never so much as made one inappropriate move on me, or even hinted that he wanted to…_

Pulling himself from Ginny, he rushed for the bathroom door, making it just in time. Leaning over the toilet, he retched violently as waves of disgust and guilt washed over him. _I failed her_, he thought as his stomach heaved again. _Utterly and completely._

Finally spent, he collapsed back on the bathroom floor, shivering. A cool hand slipped over his forehead and he felt Ginny's weight settle next to him. Without opening his eyes, he croaked, "Sorry," as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Harry, look at me," said Ginny fiercely. He opened his eyes, the weight of his abject failure crushing him. "You didn't do it, Harry. They did. Remember what you said yesterday – about choices? You made the right one Harry. If I had known anything, they would have found it out and used it to stop you."

"I only wanted to keep you safe Ginny – and your relationship with me put you in danger anyway. I'm so, so sorry-"

"Nonsense, Harry Potter," snapped Ginny briskly. "We were all in danger anyway, with Voldemort around. You did what you had to do, and you dishonour me if you pretend otherwise. Now stop it."

Stung by her words, Harry's eyes flared, then subsided as the logic in her words slipped into place. For the first time, he could see past his immediate guilt and see that, however naïve his expectations, he had acted correctly. Of course she had never been safe – no one had. It was unrealistic to assume otherwise.

"Thanks," he murmured. "That makes sense."

They huddled on the floor together in silence for a long time, until Harry quietly asked, "So what happened next?"

Ginny sighed. "Well, I refused to give you up, of course, so – she did it. After that, they just left us there, on the floor. Eventually Neville came round and managed to carry me back to the Room of Requirement. A few days later, I went home and didn't return."

Harry nodded dumbly, unable to speak. He looked at Ginny, loving her more fiercely than ever as he appreciated her courage and bravery for the first time. Clearing his throat, he spoke.

"She was wrong, you know – about the curse-"

Ginny nodded, smiling at Harry. "Yes, I think you showed me that earlier." She coughed slightly, her face glowing. "I should have known that foul creature would have known nothing about – that sort of thing."

Harry silently agreed, shifting onto his knees so that he could look at her more directly. "When I said that we would – take our time, you know, before moving things on – it had nothing to do with – well, I wanted to, of course, still do-" He stopped, his face burning, but continued to look closely at Ginny.

Her face split into a wide, warm, womanly smile. "I know Harry – of course I do. Just so you know – I do, too." Harry's heart skipped several beats.

"When it's right?" he asked, kissing her hand.

"When it's right," she agreed contentedly.

They sat close together on the bathroom floor for a while, talking softly about nothing, at peace with each other in a new, deeper way, until they finally drifted off to sleep.

Harry woke up before dawn, dimly aware of a dull ache in his back.

"Argh!" Once fully awake, the pain in his back didn't feel so dull anymore. He looked around in confusion at the small bathroom, before his mind cleared.

Looking down, he smiled as he saw Ginny's head resting in his lap. Shaking her gently, he shifted position slightly, wincing as the aches from the bathroom floor moved to new places in his body.

Ginny's eyes fluttered slowly open. "Huh?" she asked groggily. "Wassup Harry?"

"We're still in the bathroom Ginny," Harry pointed out softly.

"Oh?" said Ginny sleepily, her eyes beginning to close. "Oh," she repeated, her eyes opening again. "Ow."

"Exactly," Harry agreed.

Pulling herself upright, Ginny ran both hands through her tousled hair, yawning and stretching. Harry watched on with approval. Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What?" she asked suspiciously.

Harry grinned. Even after a night on a cold bathroom floor, Ginny still looked like a million Galleons. "Just checking out the merchandise," he replied lightly.

"Hmm," said Ginny narrowly. She swallowed, then grimaced. "My mouth feels like I've been chewing on a Pygmy Puff," she groaned, covering her mouth with a hand.

Flushing as he recalled his late night regurgitations, Harry cupped a hand over his mouth and breathed out experimentally. He recoiled sharply. "My breath smells like a Mountain Troll's", he complained.

Ginny giggled. "Well, they say that marriage destroys all your illusions about each other."

Harry stood up, working out the kinks in his neck and back. "I really need a shower," he admitted.

"Need some company?", asked Ginny teasingly. Harry turned in shock. "Just joking Harry," she giggled.

"I think I'd better make it a cold shower," Harry replied, laughing.

Ginny stood next to him, looking at her reflection. She sniffed at Harry's shoulder. "You'd better go first," she agreed.

Harry looked at her narrowly. "Wait outside then," he prompted, nudging her. Giving him a calculating glance, Ginny stepped slowly out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

Moving slowly, Harry pulled his t-shirt off, followed by his jeans and socks. Wincing again, he straightened up, massaging an aching shoulder.

"Mmm, not bad, Potter," came a soft, teasing voice behind him. Harry whirled round, looking directly into Ginny's amused brown eyes.

"Ginny!" he spluttered, feeling his face burning.

"Don't get your – boxers – in a twist Harry. You've got the essentials covered – I'm just checking out the merchandise, right?"

Glaring at her through his embarrassment, Harry snapped, "Ginny!"

"You don't want me to stay, Harry?" Ginny's face pouted in mock hurt. "That's a shame. I was thinking of offering to reciprocate afterwards."

Harry's jaw fell open. "Err, you can stay if you want Ginny," he managed, his mouth dry at the thought.

Ginny smiled knowingly. "I thought you might say that."

Stepping into the shower, Harry turned to see Ginny settling herself comfortably onto a small stool in the far corner. "You've still got your boxers on," she pointed out helpfully.

"I know," said Harry in embarrassment. Grinning suddenly as a thought crossed his mind, he waved his hand across the shower screen, silently casting a Privacy Charm which turned the glass opaque.

"Spoilsport," muttered Ginny teasingly, but her voice had a note of relief in it. She wasn't sure what she would have done if- Her face burned with embarrassment at the idea, and she was glad that Harry couldn't see her.

Inside the shower, Harry grinned. He knew full well how far the limits of Ginny's new-found confidence extended. Smiling mischievously, he called out, "Here – catch" as his boxer shorts sailed over the shower screen.

As he showered, Harry chatted casually to Ginny over the noise of the running water, amazed at how much things had changed overnight. Following her painful revelations about the source of her fears, a new, easy intimacy had sprung up between them. It wasn't rushed, or forced, but something that felt natural and right. Ginny, freed of her doubts, was challenging and teasing him with a womanly confidence that Harry found even more appealing.

As he turned off the water, Ginny slung a towel over the top of the screen. Opening it out, Harry grinned. It was a face towel, not nearly enough to preserve his modesty. "A real towel, please" he called in mock irritation. Ginny giggled, then obliged.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Harry turned to fire a retort at Ginny only to halt, mouth falling open again. While he had been in the shower, Ginny had decided to also get undressed and now stood before him in her underwear. Harry blushed, feeling heat rising to his face.

"What's the matter Harry – Nargle got your tongue?" she teased softly. Harry gulped. Ginny's attire was modest – much less revealing than if she were dressed for the beach, but it was still far more of her than he had seen before.

For her part, Ginny was looking admiringly at Harry's smooth, lightly muscled chest and shoulders. As she had suspected, his year on the run had hardened his body up nicely. Her cheeks flushed as he took in her gaze.

Slowly, Harry reached out a hand, careful to avoid misunderstanding. His fingers lightly brushed the curse scar that ran down her neck and across a shoulder. His eyes flashed momentarily, then cleared as he looked in her eyes. "Cruciatus?" he queried softly. Ginny nodded.

Twisting around to show him the top part of her other arm, she revealed a smaller scar. "And there," she murmured. Harry let out a brief hiss of empathy.

"Me too," he muttered, showing her his left forearm, where a prominent scar was visible amongst the light covering of hair.

There was an audible intake of breath as Ginny looked – properly looked - at Harry's chest and shoulders. His body was a patchwork of half-healed injuries, bruises and scars. The most prominent of these was a livid lightning shaped scar over his heart. "Was that where Voldemort-" she asked timidly, tracing the outline with a finger.

"Avada Kedavra," Harry said grimly. "Except _that _one did the trick," he joked blackly. Ginny stared at his face for a moment, then turned him slowly by his shoulders, taking in the full extent of his injuries.

As she gently touched a long, tapering scar across his back, Harry said matter-of-factly, "Slicing Curse."

"And this one?"

"Hex of some kind – not sure what."

"This?"

"Sectumsempra"

And this?

"Fiendfire"

Ginny, turning Harry back round to face her, pointed to one last one on his sternum.

Harry grinned. "Fell out of a tree trying to rescue one of Mrs Figg's cats when I was six."

Ginny giggled as the mood lightened.

"It's not funny you know – that one _really _hurt," said Harry, laughing with her.

She slapped him on the arm playfully. "Go and get dressed while I have a shower," she ordered.

Harry grinned, heading for the door. "Spoilsport," he said, calling over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

By the time they were showered and dressed, the sun was rising, but there was no sign of anyone else stirring in the Burrow. Ginny suggested they take a stroll around the garden and over the orchard. Harry, knowing that there was more they needed to talk about, readily agreed.

Hand in hand, the couple wandered around talking quietly. Neither referred to their moment of shared intimacy in the bathroom, but Harry felt that Ginny needed to know the story behind his scars, just as he now knew hers.

Leaning against a fence at the top of the orchard, they looked back towards the Burrow as the sun rose slowly in the sky. Harry smiled wistfully, closing his eyes to feel the warmth on his face. Opening them again, he gazed over the familiar landscape.

"It's beautiful here, you know."

Ginny happily nodded her agreement.

Harry took a deep breath in. _Now or never, Potter_, he thought. "For a long time last year, I honestly thought I would never see it again," he said shakily.

Ginny looked at him carefully, but said nothing, waiting. Harry smiled, kissing her lightly. One of the things he loved most about Ginny was her patience - with him.

After a long moment, Ginny spoke quietly, "Do you want to talk about it, Harry?"

Harry nodded silently. "I think it would be best if I began the night I left Hogwarts with Professor Dumbledore…" he began.

The sun had risen high into the sky by the time Harry finished his story. They slowly walked down the orchard, silently holding hands. Ginny's eyes were red with the tears she had shed as he spoke, but Harry's eyes had been dry and burning even as he had described walking to his death._ It's like he's talking about someone else_, Ginny thought as they walked slowly.

She stopped, taking a deep breath in and turning to Harry. "It's okay, Harry," she said quietly. Harry looked down at her, confused.

"It's okay Harry, " she repeated calmly looking at him. A muscle flickered in his jaw, but his eyes remained hard and burning.

"Harry – it's _okay_," she said for a third time. Harry's jaw quivered, emotions wavering across his face and the awful, blank look on his face collapsed as the floodgates opened.

He collapsed to his knees, sobbing hoarsely and Ginny went with him, her arms tight around his shoulders. Great, painful sobs and inarticulate screams erupted from his chest as he lost himself in a raging river of emotion.

Cradling him like a mother, Ginny cried silent tears for him as he choked out his pain and terror in harsh, staccato sentences.

"I – was – so – scared," he wept, tears soaking her neck as he clung to her with the scared desperation of a child and she murmured soft, meaningless words of comfort.

The hard, iron hand which had been constricting his heart for as long as he dared to remember was lifting away, and Harry wept for himself, for loved ones he had never known and for the promise of innocence long since lost.

After a long time, they continued their long, meandering walk back to the Burrow. They walked in silence, but it didn't matter. There was a sense of truth about their relationship now which didn't need words to express it.

As they neared the Burrow, the delicious smell of sausages and bacon drifted across the air towards them. Harry stomach rumbled hungrily, and he laughed in surprise at such a normal reaction.

"Someone's hungry," smiled Ginny up at him. It was good to hear that laugh again, she thought. It was natural and free, without any of the undertones of irony or self-deprecation it usually contained.

They stopped before the door without mentioning it. Harry wiped his face with an arm. "Do I look like a mess?", he asked. He wasn't asking out of self-consciousness, just curiosity.

"No more than usual," Ginny replied, taking his hand in hers. He smiled, wrapping his fingers tightly through hers as they walked into the Burrow side by side.

* * *

A/N - It's been pointed out to me that the plot device of the Chastity Curse has already been seen in another H/G fic. I don't recall reading this, so its either a case of great minds thinking alike, or me assimilating it into my subconcious. Either way, if anyone could tell me the name of the fic I would be grateful and will happily credit them with the original idea.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Truth and consequences II

Harry woke up before dawn, dimly aware of a dull ache in his back.

"Argh!" Once awake, the pain in his back didn't feel so dull anymore. He looked around in confusion at the small bathroom, before his mind cleared.

Looking down, he smiled as he saw Ginny's head resting in his lap. Shaking her gently, he shifted position slightly, wincing as the aches from the bathroom floor moved to new places in his body.

Ginny's eyes fluttered slowly open. "Huh?" she asked groggily. "Wassup Harry?"

"We're still in the bathroom Ginny," Harry pointed out softly.

"Oh?" said Ginny sleepily, her eyes beginning to close. "Oh," she repeated, her eyes opening again. "Ow."

"Exactly," Harry agreed.

Pulling herself upright, Ginny ran both hands through her tousled hair, yawning and stretching. Harry watched on with approval. Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What?" she asked suspiciously.

Harry grinned. Even after a night on a cold bathroom floor, Ginny still looked like a million Galleons. "Just checking out the merchandise," he replied lightly.

"Hmm," said Ginny narrowly. She swallowed, then grimaced. "My mouth feels like I've been chewing on a Pygmy Puff," she groaned, covering her mouth with a hand.

Flushing as he recalled his late night regurgitations, Harry cupped a hand over his mouth and breathed out experimentally. He recoiled sharply. "My breath smells like a mountain Troll's", he complained.

Ginny giggled. "Well, they say that marriage destroys all your illusions about each other."

Harry stood up, working out the kinks in his neck and back. "I really need a shower," he admitted.

"Need some company?", asked Ginny teasingly. Harry turned in shock. "Just joking Harry," she giggled.

"I think I'd better make it a cold shower," Harry replied, laughing.

Ginny stood next to him, looking at her reflection. She sniffed at Harry's shoulder. "You'd better go first," she agreed.

Harry looked at her narrowly. "Wait outside then," he prompted, nudging her. Giving him a calculating glance, Ginny stepped slowly out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

Moving to a low shelf, Harry pulled his t-shirt off, followed by his jeans and socks. Wincing again, he straightened up, massaging an aching shoulder.

"Mmm, not bad, Potter," came a soft, teasing voice behind him. Harry whirled round, looking directly into Ginny's amused brown eyes.

"Ginny!" he spluttered, feeling his face burning.

"Don't get your – boxers – in a twist Harry. You've got the essentials covered – I'm just checking out the merchandise, right?"

Glaring at her through his embarrassment, Harry snapped, "Ginny!"

"You don't want me to stay, Harry?" Ginny's face pouted in mock hurt. "That's a shame. I was thinking of offering to reciprocate afterwards."

Harry's jaw fell open. "Err, you can stay if you want Ginny," he managed, his mouth dry at the thought.

Ginny smiled knowingly. "I thought you might say that."

Stepping into the shower, Harry turned to see Ginny settling herself comfortably onto a small stool in the far corner. "You've still got your boxers on," she pointed out helpfully.

"I know," said Harry in embarrassment. Grinning suddenly as a thought crossed his mind, he waved his hand across the shower screen, silently casting a Privacy Charm which turned the glass opaque.

"Spoilsport," muttered Ginny teasingly, but her voice had a note of relief in it. She wasn't sure what she would have done if- Her face burned with embarrassment at the idea, and she was glad that Harry couldn't see her.

Inside the shower, Harry grinned. He knew full well how far the limits of Ginny's new-found confidence extended. Smiling mischievously, he called out, "Here – catch" as his boxer shorts sailed over the shower screen.

As he showered, Harry chatted casually to Ginny over the noise of the running water, amazed at how much things had changed overnight. Following her painful revelations about her fears over her attractiveness, a new, easy intimacy had sprung up between them. It wasn't rushed, or forced, but something that felt natural and right. Ginny, freed of her doubts, was challenging and teasing him with a womanly confidence that Harry found even more appealing.

As he turned off the water, Ginny slung a towel over the top of the screen. Opening it out, Harry grinned. It was a face towel, not nearly enough to preserve his modesty. "A real towel, please" he called in mock irritation. Ginny giggled, then obliged.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Harry turned to fire a retort at Ginny only to halt, mouth falling open again. While he had been in the shower, Ginny had decided to also get undressed and now stood before him in her underwear. Harry blushed, feeling heat rising to his face.

"What's the matter Harry – Nargle got your tongue?" she teased softly. Harry gulped. Ginny's attire was modest – less revealing that if she were dressed for the beach, but it was still far more of her than he had seen before.

For her part, Ginny was looking admiringly at Harry's smooth, lightly muscled chest and shoulders. As she had suspected, his year on the run had hardened his body up nicely. Her cheeks flushed as he took in her gaze.

Slowly, Harry reached out a hand, careful to avoid misunderstanding. His fingers lightly brushed the curse scar that ran down her neck and across a shoulder. His eyes flashed momentarily, then cleared as he looked in her eyes. "Cruciatus?" he queried softly. Ginny nodded.

Twisting around to show him the top part of her other arm, she revealed a smaller scar. "And there," she murmured. Harry let out a brief hiss of empathy.

"Me too," he muttered, showing her his left forearm, where a prominent scar was visible amongst the light covering of hair.

There was a audible intake of breath as Ginny looked – properly looked - at Harry's chest and shoulders. His body was a patchwork of half-healed injuries, bruises and scars. The most prominent of these was a livid lightning shaped scar over his heart. "Was that where Voldemort-" she asked timidly, tracing the outline with a finger.

"Avada Kedavra," Harry said grimly. "Except _that _one did the trick," he joked blackly. Ginny stared at his face for a moment, then turned him slowly by his shoulders, taking in the full extent of his injuries.

As she gently touched a long, tapering scar across his back, Harry said matter-of-factly, "Slicing Curse."

"And this one?"

"Hex of some kind – not sure what."

"This?"

"Sectumsempra"

And this?

"Fiendfire"

Ginny, turning Harry back round to face her, pointed to one last one on his sternum.

Harry grinned. "Fell out of a tree trying to rescue one of Mrs Figg's cats when I was six."

Ginny giggled as the mood lightened.

"It's not funny you know – that one _really _hurt," said Harry, laughing with her.

She slapped him on the arm playfully. "Go and get dressed while I have a shower," she ordered.

Harry grinned, heading for the door. "Spoilsport," he said, calling over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

By the time they were showered and dressed, the sun was rising, but there was no sign of anyone else stirring in the Burrow. Ginny suggested they take a stroll around the garden and over the orchard. Harry, knowing that there was more they needed to talk about, readily agreed.

Hand in hand, the couple wandered around talking quietly. Neither referred to their moment of shared intimacy in the bathroom, but Harry felt that Ginny needed to know the story behind his scars, just as he now knew hers.

Leaning against a fence at the top of the orchard, they looked back towards the Burrow as the sun rose slowly in the sky. Harry smiled wistfully, closing his eyes to feel the warmth on his face. Opening them again, he gazed over the familiar landscape.

"It's beautiful here, you know."

Ginny happily nodded her agreement.

Harry took a deep breath in. _Now or never, Potter_, he thought. "For a long time last year, I honestly thought I would never see it again," he said shakily.

Ginny looked at him carefully, but said nothing, waiting. Harry smiled, kissing her lightly. One of the things he loved the most about Ginny was her patience with him.

After a long moment, Ginny spoke quietly, "Do you want to talk about it, Harry?"

Harry nodded silently. "I think it would be best if I began the night I left Hogwarts with Professor Dumbledore…" he began.

The sun had risen high into the sky by the time Harry finished his story. They slowly walked down the orchard, silently holding hands. Ginny's eyes were red with the tears she had shed as he spoke, but Harry's eyes had been dry and burning even as he had described walking to his death._ It's like he's talking about someone else_, Ginny thought as they walked slowly.

She stopped, taking a deep breath in and turning to Harry. "It's okay, Harry," she said quietly. Harry looked down at her, confused.

"It's okay Harry, " she repeated calmly looking at him. A muscle flickered in his jaw, but his eyes remained hard and burning.

"Harry – it's okay," she said for a third time. Harry's jaw quivered, emotions wavering across his face and the awful, blank look on his face collapsed as the floodgates opened.

He collapsed to his knees, sobbing hoarsely and Ginny went with him, her arms tight around his shoulders. Great, painful sobs and inarticulate screams erupted from his chest as he lost himself in a raging river of emotion.

Cradling him like a mother, Ginny cried silent tears for him as he choked out his pain and terror in harsh, staccato sentences.

"I – was – so – scared," he wept, tears soaking her neck as he clung to her with the scared desperation of a child and she murmured soft, meaningless words of comfort.

The hard, iron hand which had been constricting his heart for as long as he dared to remember was lifting away, and Harry wept for himself, for loved ones he had never known and for the promise of innocence long since lost.

After a long time, they continued their long, meandering walk back to the Burrow. They walked in silence, but it didn't matter. There was a sense of truthfulness about their relationship now which didn't need words to express it.

As they neared the Burrow, the delicious smell of sausages and bacon drifted across the air towards them. Harry stomach rumbled hungrily, and he laughed in surprise at such a normal reaction.

"Someone's hungry," smiled Ginny up at him. It was good to hear that laugh again, she thought. It was natural and free, without any of the undertones of irony or self-deprecation it usually contained.

They stopped before the door without mentioning it. Harry wiped his face with an arm. "Do I look like a mess?" , he asked. He wasn't asking out of self-consciousness, just curiosity.

"No more than usual," Ginny replied, taking his hand in hers. He smiled as they walked into the Burrow together.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – A grim old place

As they walked into the kitchen, Ron and Hermione were already seated at the table, digging into a hearty breakfast. Ron looked tired – clearly the ghoul had not made for a relaxing bedfellow.

Both looked up as they entered, their practised gaze taking in Harry's reddened eyes and slightly crumpled look instantly. Ginny watched them wonderingly. _They know him so well_, she thought. She didn't feel jealous or excluded, as she sometimes had in the past – just glad that he had such good friends.

"Alright, Harry?" said Ron casually, his eyes fixed on Harry's face. "Yeah," replied Harry, with feeling. "Yeah, I am, thanks." Ron nodded, giving Ginny a long, loving look.

Hermione leapt quickly out of her seat and crossed to Harry, drawing him into a brief, wordless hug, then kissing him lightly on the cheek. To Ginny's surprise and pleasure, she repeated the same procedure with her too.

Smiling at Ginny's pleased expression, Hermione said softly, "You're one of the family Ginny – you always were, really."

Harry grinned, pulling Ginny to a vacant seat. "Yeah, just took me a while to wake up and smell the coffee," he joked.

Mrs Weasley, oblivious to the quiet reunion behind her, turned with a sudden start. "Did someone want coffee," she asked brightly, then looked on in puzzlement as they dissolved into laughter.

The breakfast turned out to be one of the best Harry had ever experienced. As more and more Weasleys woke up and joined them, the kitchen was filled with liveliness and laughter.

Molly Weasley smiled to herself as she watched Harry joining in with the teasing, finally at ease with himself and others. She could see that something had changed in Harry, as well as between him and Ginny. They both seemed happier, somehow more whole together then they had previously, even the day before.

She could see the signs of tears having been shed on both sides, and could guess, in part, at the words that had passed between them. Both had been marked by their experiences over the last year, and she was glad that they had been able to banish those demons by sharing them with each other.

Glancing over, Harry saw her standing by the kitchen sink. Smiling, he walked over to her, guiding to the empty chair at one end of the table.

"Come on – Mum," he whispered quietly. "Come and join us." He whirled and picked up a frying pan from the side. "Now then," he bellowed. "Who's for seconds?"

An enthusiastic cheer rose from the extended Weasley family.

Once breakfast was finally finished, and the kitchen tidied, Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione, and they took a walk around the pond, Ginny at Harry's side.

There was a lot to catch up on. As Hermione had been busy keeping an eye on Ron's enthusiastic victory celebrations with his brothers in Hogsmeade since the celebration meal two days ago, they were unaware of Harry's offer to tell their story to the Order at Grimmauld Place next week.

Hermione was anxious to be reunited with her parents in Australia, and restore their memories. She had already made several inquiries with the Australian Ministry of Magic and had a good idea where to find them, so hoped to be back in a couple of days.

Ron had offered to accompany her in order to 'keep her safe.' Harry resisted the urge to point out that Hermione was far more likely to be keeping him safe, as he realised that the new couple wanted some time alone, away from Mrs Weasley's beady eyes. As both were Of Age, there was little Mrs Weasley could say about it, and she gave in with good grace.

"Honestly," said Ron, grinning. "I reckon she's going soft in her old age."

"Still sleeping with the ghoul tonight though, aren't you Ronald?" remarked Hermione acidly. Ron's grin faded slightly.

They all agreed to meet back at Grimmauld Place in four days, and hold the meeting with the Order as soon as possible after that time. "May as well get it over with," said Harry, not relishing the thought of retelling their story.

Ron and Hermione rushed off to pack for their trip, and twenty minutes later, after finally releasing themselves from Mrs Weasley's tearful embrace, Apperated away on the first leg of their journey to Australia.

Harry and Ginny sat quietly in the sitting room, talking occasionally, kissing often and napping for an hour or so.

Harry, who had been thinking idly about the upcoming meeting with the Order, sat up suddenly, tipping a surprised Ginny onto the floor.

"Ow, thanks Harry," groaned Ginny, rubbing her sore elbow where it had hit the ground. "Sorry Gin," Harry apologised, rubbing her elbow for her. He lapsed into thoughtful silence.

"Hello? Are you in there, Harry?" teased Ginny, waving a hand slowly in front of Harry's vacant face. Harry gave a start, and chuckled.

"I was just thinking about Grimmauld Place," Harry admitted, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What are you thinking about that horrible old house for Harry?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Well, that's just it," Harry replied. He leaned forward in his chair, his face animated. "I was wondering what to do with it," he continued.

"Er, sell it, take the money and run?" suggested Ginny.

"That was my first thought," Harry agreed. A calculating look spread over his face.

"Well?" prompted Ginny impatiently.

"Sirius always told me how much he hated growing up in that place," Harry went on.

"I'm not surprised – it's so old and – well – grim," Ginny interrupted.

"Yes, but does it have to be?" Harry questioned. Ginny groaned silently as she saw his eyes glazing over again.

"Earth to Harry – come in, Harry?" she said playfully, reaching over to stroke his tousled hair gently.

Harry's eyes snapped back into focus. "Right. Sorry. Well, it's like this," he said, his hands gesturing enthusiastically. "Sirius left me the house, and enough money to do whatever I wanted with it. I know that it's filled with Dark magic and bad memories, but I thought – I have to believe that-"

Ginny's face softened as she followed his chain of thought. "You want to see if it can be – rescued?" she asked gently.

Nodding, Harry rubbed the back of his neck, a faint flush spreading over his cheeks. "Does that sound ridiculous? You know, me rushing off to save the world, one house at a time?" His voice was light and ironic, but Ginny could see a tension in his eyes that belied his relaxed posture.

Kissing him briefly, Ginny snuggled up closer to his arm. "I don't think so," she admitted. "It does seem wrong to let that house be remembered only for Dark magic and unhappy memories." She squeezed his arm reassuring. "I think that Sirius would have liked it too – banishing the past and sticking one in the eye of the Black family."

Harry smiled and nodded. "That's what I thought, too."

Feeling her eyes closing sleepily as she relaxed onto his warm shoulder, Ginny asked tiredly, "So – are you going to live in it?"

Looking at her in amusement, Harry replied, "Well – that would be up to you really Ginny."

"Oh," murmured Ginny, drifting off to sleep. A split second later, her eyes snapped open and she shot up in her chair. "Oh!"

Staring into Harry's eyes, which glinted with amusement, she stammered, "You mean – me – and you?" Her mind was whirling as it pictured the two of them eating dinner, relaxing in front of a fire, walking to their bedroom…

Her face reddened at the latter thought.

Seeing her shock, Harry pulled her closer to him. "Well, eventually Ginny – the house belongs to us now, remember?"

Ginny ran her hands distractedly through her hair, staring into space. Judging from the wide-eyed expression on her face, she had just passed her personal acceptance threshold for revelations, Harry noted with alarm. He quickly moved to kneel in front of her, waiting until she looked up at him.

"Too much?" he whispered kindly.

Ginny nodded. "Kind of – sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for Ginny," retorted Harry. "I should be saying sorry. You've been so amazing these last few days – so accepting – that I got a bit carried away, that's all."

Ginny shook her head. "It's not that Harry – I think it's a brilliant idea, I really do – and of course we need to be thinking about a house – just-"

"-not yet," Harry finished. Ginny nodded again, looking up at Harry from beneath lowered eyelashes, checking to see if she had hurt his feelings.

Harry smiled softly. "I know that Ginny – it's too soon for me as well. Redecorating Grimmauld Place is going to take a few months. I was hoping that – for at least this summer – we could stay here at the Burrow. Would that be okay?"

Ginny beamed, throwing herself into Harry's arms and sending them both hurtling backwards onto the floor. Harry let out a surprised "Oof!" as he hit the floor, which was quickly stifled as Ginny's lips sought out his own.

Some considerable time later, as they both lay on the rug in the sitting room and Harry's heart beat slowly returned to normal – or as normal as it ever got around Ginny – he had a sudden idea.

"Ginny?" he asked quietly. Ginny rolled over so that her head was resting on his chest, her face inclined towards his. "_More_ kissing, Harry?" she teased.

Harry snorted in amusement. "Well – maybe in a minute. First, I wanted to talk."

"Oh," said Ginny laughingly. "Well, that _would_ make a change. It's been all talk and not enough action these last few days, if you ask me."

Harry's face heated at her words, but he struggled on manfully. "I was wondering if you would like to check out Grimmauld Place with me this afternoon – I've been meaning to check that Kreacher has got back there okay."

"And perhaps begin planning your renovation ideas?" asked Ginny lightly.

"Our ideas, Ginny," Harry reminded her. She patted his chest in response. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, he went on. "I was thinking that afterwards – if you wanted – we could maybe go out – for dinner? Like normal couples do when they are getting to know each other?"

His breath paused as Ginny looked up at him searchingly. Her mouth curved up gently and her eyes shone with a warm happiness. "I'd like that a lot, Harry," she replied simply. "Although," she continued. "I'm not sure what part of _normal_ applies to our situation."

Harry began to laugh. "Oh, you mean the whole got together, separated, reunited, accidently married thing?" he asked dismissively. "Didn't you know that's what everyone is doing these days?"

Giggling madly, Ginny adopted a facetiously aristocratic tone. "Oh, but of course Harold – it is _de rigueur_ in polite society after all."

Tears of laughter rolled down their cheeks and both were unable to speak for a few minutes.

As their moment of shared hilarity passed, Ginny's eyes brightened at the thought of a night out with Harry. Scrambling to her feet, she danced around excitedly. "Let's go and tell Mum all about it," she said as she pulled Harry to his feet. Dragging him by the arm, she shot off towards the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was preparing lunch.

"Mum, Mum – guess what me and Harry are going to do tonight?" she called out excitedly. Mrs Weasley turned from the sink, a large bowl in her soapy hands.

"What's that, dear?" she asked, smiling at the happy expression on her daughter's face.

"We're going to have – what do Muggles call it? A first mate!"

There was a loud shattering noise as the bowl slipped from Mrs Weasley's hands and smashed into pieces on the floor. Harry's face erupted with sudden heat as he clapped his hand to his head, groaning at Ginny's mistake.

"First _date_, Ginny – _date_!" he bawled, his voice higher than usual.

Once Mrs Weasley had calmed down from Ginny's accidental slip and Harry had quickly repaired the bowl, the trio sat down at the table so that Ginny could tell her all about it.

Ginny, whose face was still rather red, gabbled on excitedly, her eyes dancing with light.

"-and then, once Harry has done his measurements and whatever, he's taking me out to dinner at – where are you taking me Harry?" Her face turned to Harry's expectantly.

"Well," said Harry slowly, playing for time. "I was thinking that we wouldn't get much peace on Diagon Alley, so perhaps – a Muggle restaurant?" he finished weakly.

"- a _Muggle_ restaurant, Mum – how exciting! I wonder if they have serving elves there? Oh, what am I going to wear-"

Harry leaned back in his chair, smiling as Ginny's wave of excited chatter washed over him.

After lunch, they gathered the few things they needed together – or at least, Harry grabbed a change of clothes and convinced Ginny not to bring her _entire_ trunk for one evening – and he Apperated them directly to Grimmauld Place.

Steeling himself for the welcome he knew was coming, Harry gingerly tapped on the door with his wand and it swung open.

"_Snape? Severus Snape?"_ The carpet reared up as the ghostly figure advanced towards them. Harry smiled sadly. "I didn't kill you, Professor," he replied. Pointing his wand directly at the figure, he added, "Voldemort did." A bright jet of green light shot out the end of his wand and the figure dissolved and vanished.

Ginny stepped in behind him, dragging a large bag behind her. "Are you sure about this Harry?" she muttered, her nose wrinkling. "It smells like something died in here – repeatedly."

Nodding resolutely, Harry led the way down the hall towards the stairs. "Let's leave our clothes and – stuff, upstairs," he said, helping Ginny lift the bulging bag as they climbed the stairs.

"_Who pollutes the noble house of Black?"_

Harry winced as the high-pitched voice screeched from the portrait hung on the wall. The insane, wizened face of Walburga Black glared malevolently at them.

"_The filthy blood traitor dares to defile my home, bringing the foul spawn of other blood traitors with him-"_

"Shut it, you disgusting old hag!" roared Harry, his face contorted with anger.

"_He addresses me in that insolent manner? The Dark Lord will deal with the like of you-"_

The screaming voice abruptly died away as a warm orange glow filled the hallway. Harry felt the hairs on his arms rising once more as he turned to stare at Ginny. Her face was filled with a cold rage, her eyes burning brightly with the same orange heat as before, but her voice was calm and deadly as she addressed the portrait.

"Voldemort's dead, Mrs Black. Didn't you hear?"

The flash of light was blinding this time as the portrait and most of the wall upon which it was hung exploded backwards into the dining room, showering Harry and Ginny with a thick, cloying dust.

Coughing wildly, Harry performed a quick Siphon Charm and the thick dust was sucked up into the end of his wand. He stared in disbelief at the gaping hole, peering through at the wrecked dining room beyond.

Turning to look at a speechless Ginny, he nodded slightly towards the wreckage and said mildly, "So – we're going with the open-plan look, then?"

Doubling up with laughter, he clung to the banister of the stairs and roared with glee, Ginny joining him after a moment.

Once they had made it upstairs, Harry still chuckling from time to time, they quickly dumped the bag and took a look around. Taking her by the hand, Harry insisted on giving Ginny the 'Full Tour', as he grandly called it. In reality, this mainly consisted of them being alternately amazed that the dilapidated house was still standing, and amused by the peculiar Black family relics they found on their journey.

Planting an enormous plumed hat on Ginny's head, Harry took a step back, cocking his head in consideration. "You look like your Auntie Muriel," Harry chortled – then ducked as a swarm of giant Bat Bogies shot over his head.

As the couple explored more of the house, it became apparent that it would need almost completely clearing and movement of several walls before redecorating. Harry jokingly suggested that Ginny could take care of the demolition, then hurriedly apologised as she threatened to hex him again.

Harry's enthusiasm was infectious, and Ginny found herself drawn into excited discussions about possible layout and décor. Although she still thought of it as Harry's house, the idea of living there together became more appealing. The only drawback, in her mind, was the distance from her parents in Ottery St. Catchpole.

As she tentatively voiced her fears, Harry nodded before responding. He had been expecting this. As they were currently in the sitting room, he pulled her towards a dusty sofa and they sat down, Ginny curling her legs under her.

"I was thinking that this place is great for getting to Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic, and even for the Hogwarts Express, but I would miss the countryside if we lived here all the time."

Ginny nodded curiously – he had obviously been giving this some thought, she mused, smiling. "Go on," she encouraged.

"So," Harry continued, rubbing his hands together nervously. "At some point – when we're older I mean – I was thinking that we could buy a smaller house in the country. You know, like my parents did." He looked at Ginny anxiously, not wanting to over-burden her again.

Ginny reached over and took hold of his hands, stopping their nervous movement. "That sounds like a great idea, Harry," she said, smiling warmly at him. She paused as a thought crossed her mind.

"Harry – just exactly how rich are you?"

Harry stiffened, then relaxed. _I should have expected that, talking about buying a second home_, he reasoned. Feeling faintly guilty – he had never wished to be so well off, and was always acutely aware of how little money the Weasleys had – he rubbed his forehead absently as he responded.

"To be honest – I'm not sure. My parents left me some money in trust at Gringotts to see me through my time at Hogwarts, but apart from that, I've never thought to ask."

Ginny's heart swelled with pride as she looked at his uncertain face. It took a special person to be so disinterested in material possessions, she thought. As long as Harry had the clothes on his back and a broomstick, he didn't seem concerned about the urge for material possessions that dogged other witches and wizards. Even his desire to improve Grimmauld Place and buy a home in the country had nothing to do with flaunting his status or impressing others. Like so many things with Harry, it came from the heart instead.

"It's not that I care," she responded, "but before we go making any more big plans we should probably find out, don't you think?"

Harry considered for a moment. "You're right," he said finally. "I think I've always put if off because it seemed so – adult. You know, bank balances and home improvements."

Ginny nodded. "Well, in the eyes of the Wizarding world, we _are_ adults Harry – or at least will be once I am Of Age."

The couple decided to stop by Diagon Alley and visit Gringotts before going out for dinner, and continued their exploration of Grimmauld Place in the meantime.

Reaching the kitchen, Harry looked into the small room where Kreacher normally lived. "Hmm, he's not here," he mused.

Ginny started, then spoke. "Harry, did you _tell_ him to return here after the battle?" she asked.

Harry clapped a hand to his head, groaning. "No – I just thought he would. He must be still at Hogwarts." He paused, then called, "Kreacher!"

With a crack the elderly house elf appeared in front of Harry, bowing so low that his long ears almost touched Harry's feet. Ginny giggled quietly, then composed herself as Kreacher straightened up.

In his deep, bullfrog voice, Kreacher inquired, "Is Master Harry well? Can Kreacher help him?" Noticing Ginny for the first time, the tiny elf gasped, then bowed deeply again. "Apologies Mistress – Kreacher did not see you." Muttering, "Bad Kreacher!" he tottered on bowed legs towards the nearest wall.

Gently stopping him before he could start banging his head against the wall, Ginny knelt down next to the trembling house elf, regarding him curiously. "Kreacher, why did you call me Mistress?" She looked up at Harry, who shrugged. "You – house-elfs don't read _The Daily Prophet_, do they?"

Kreacher let out a tiny, high-pitched giggle. "Mistress Ginny is as funny as she is beautiful! House-elves do not need to read silly newspapers to know when something happens to their Master, no! We just know."

Wonderingly, Ginny glanced up at Harry again. "Well, thank you for your welcome Kreacher. Why don't you take a seat?" she asked kindly, gesturing to the long kitchen table.

To her horror, Kreacher burst into tears. Panicked, Ginny said to Harry, "Did I say something wrong? I've never had a house-elf before." She stroked Kreacher's back consolingly, but this only seemed to make matters worse.

Harry shook his head, smiling. "I don't think Kreacher has been used to kindness from his past Mistresses, Ginny."

Kreacher looked up at Harry adoringly through large eyes swimming with tears. "Master Harry is correct, as always. Kreacher can say this now – Mistress Black was – was a bad old witch!" He trembled all over at his bravery and Ginny tightened her grip on him, painfully reminded of Dobby.

"Well, Kreacher – I don't think you'll be hearing much from Mistress Black anymore," grinned Harry, looking at Ginny. "Mistress Ginny took care of her portrait earlier."

Forcing the house-elf to sit with them, Harry and Ginny sat at the kitchen table, listening to his story. Since the battle at Hogwarts, Kreacher had indeed remained there, assisting in the magical repairs needed. It seemed that the news of the Dementor attack had not reached the house-elves, and Harry silently thanked Professor McGonagall for her discretion.

Harry tentatively brought up the matter of the clearing and redecorating of Grimmauld Place. He knew that Kreacher was attached to several of Regulus Black's possessions, and wanted to give him the chance to keep what he wanted. To his surprise, Kreacher was enthusiastic about the change.

"A new Mistress needs a new house, yes she does!" he proclaimed proudly, and would have started immediately if Harry hadn't restrained him.

"Now, Kreacher, you don't have to do this on your own," Harry warned. "I can always get in a Magical Movements team to do it."

Kreacher swelled with indignation, looking more like a bull-frog than ever. "Kreacher does not need help Master! Kreacher can take care of Master and Mistress Potter on his own!"

Stepping in to calm the irate house-elf, Ginny suggested, "Why don't we see if Hogwarts can spare any other house-elves to help out, Harry?"

Kreacher looked at her admiringly. "Mistress is wise, Master. We should listen to Mistress. We house-elves had been wishing there was a way to thank Master for getting rid of that bad old wizard, and now there is!"

With a click of his fingers, Kreacher vanished, presumably to Hogwarts to round up willing assistants. In his excitement, he had quite forgotten to ask Harry for permission to leave.

Harry groaned in mock-disgust. "Typical," he muttered. "I spent a whole year getting him on my side, and after five minutes with you he's eating out of the palm of your hand!"

Ginny giggled. "Mistress is wise, Harry. We should listen to Mistress," she reminded him.

Harry frowned. "As if I dared to do otherwise," he commented sarcastically.

By the time that Kreacher returned, Harry and Ginny had drawn up their plans for the renovation. Using a simple, but effective Display Charm, Ginny cast a spell on the kitchen wall that turned it into a diagram of their proposed changes, with colour-coded sections blinking cheerily.

As they stood in front of the display, prodding sections with their wands as they made the last few changes, there was a loud crack and Kreacher's voice spoke proudly, "Kreacher has returned Master and Mistress – with help!"

Turning around at the sound of his voice, Harry and Ginny stared in amazement at their kitchen. The floor, table and work surfaces were covered entirely with house-elves. Harry estimated dazedly that there must be at least a hundred, if not more.

"Kreacher – can Hogwarts spare this many house-elves?" asked Ginny nervously.

"Oh, yes Mistress. Kreacher asked the esteemed Headmistress of Hogwarts and she gave all the house-elves time off to help for as long as needed."

Ginny frowned. "But wouldn't you rather take a holiday than work on the house-" she began.

Cries of horror rippled through the assembly of house elfs. Kreacher shook his head vigorously, looking faintly embarrassed. "Mistress does not know, to be sure, but house-elves do not be taking-" he paused, then whispered the word, "_holidays!"_

A fresh wave of disgust echoed through the room. Several house-elves fainted, and had to be revived by the others.

"Oh – right," said Ginny in embarrassment. "Well, perhaps you had better come and look at our plans, Kreacher." She moved towards the display, her ponytail bobbing to reveal a reddened neck.

"Right away Mistress!", croaked Kreacher eagerly. "Master, the Headmistress asked me to remind you that you were to send her a message about a meeting to be held here soon."

Harry nodded. "Thanks Kreacher – I'd forgotten that. Ginny – can you…" His voice trailed off as he saw that Ginny, surrounded by eager house-elves, was already explaining their plans. The display flickered with colour as her wand flashed over it, the house-elves nodding keenly as they listened attentively.

Sitting down at the now empty table, Harry scribbled a quick response to Professor McGonagall on a scrappy-looking piece of parchment he had found. Thanking her for the loan of the house-elves, he informed her of the date he had agreed with Ron and Hermione, and suggested appropriate people to attend.

Turning, he saw Ginny finishing her presentation with a flourish of her wand. The house elves burst into rapturous applause, and Ginny, flushing, gave a small curtsey. Clearing his throat, he called over, "Is anyone free to take this message-"

There was a small stampede and a forest of hands waved eagerly around Harry's knees. Ginny glanced over and laughed softly. "Now who's got them eating out of the palm of their hand?" Harry grinned back, surveying the seething mass of elves vying for attention in front of him.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – A date disturbed

Leaving Grimmauld Place in the capable hands of the swarming house-elves, Harry and Ginny stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. After the gloomy interior of the house, the warmth of the sun felt pleasant, and they decided to walk to Diagon Alley, taking in the sights and sounds of Muggle London in the way.

Ginny, who had seen much less of the Muggle world than Harry, was enthralled by the bustling streets and Harry delighted in answering her eager questions. Apart from a minor fracas, where Harry had to forcibly stop her from freeing the owls she was convinced were being cruelly imprisoned inside a postbox, the walk passed without incident.

As they walked through a small park in the centre of a square, Ginny's hand tightened on Harry's as she spotted a small restaurant tucked away underneath a canopy of trees. "Can we eat there tonight, Harry?" she pleaded imploringly, giving Harry a look which made his knees quiver slightly. The restaurant was closed, but Harry managed to attract the attention of a waiter and make a reservation for later.

"It's funny," commented Ginny idly as they walked on. "He didn't _look_ much like a serving elf, did he?" Harry looked away, grinning silently.

As they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Harry's formerly brisk pace slowed. Ginny, tugging at his hand, looked up curiously. Harry's face had settled into a cautious, wary expression that tugged at her heart. He was clearly steeling himself for unwelcome attention from the magical community.

Ginny reached up a warm hand, stroking his cheek lightly. "Harry?" she said softly. Harry looked down at her, her normally bright eyes guarded.

"You can't help who you are, and you shouldn't be ashamed of it either. Let them make a fuss if they want – it's _our_ life now, and we are going to live it without shame or fear. Okay?"

Harry's eyes brightened, sparking with the intensity of his feelings towards the small witch at his side._ She really will always stand with me_, he realised. Smiling broadly, he replied, "Kreacher was right – you _are_ wise - and beautiful."

Ginny nodded quickly, smiling in return. "Very perceptive, those house-elves."

Chuckling, Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron, pulling Ginny in behind him. As the patrons of the busy pub became aware of their identities, the noise level dropped dramatically to be replaced with a quiet whispering.

Unhurriedly, with a calm authority, Harry led Ginny through the pub, nodding politely at familiar faces but not lingering. To their surprise, no-one spoke to them. Most looked awe-struck, and some even shrank back in their seats as they passed.

Stepping out into the yard behind the pub, Harry paused, wand drawn, in front of the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley. "What do you suppose that was about?" he murmured. "I thought they'd be all over me like Flobberworms over cabbage."

Ginny laughed softly. "Harry, you've just defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. They're a bit intimidated by your reputation."

Harry considered this, then turned to Ginny, raising an eyebrow. "Are _you _intimidated by my reputation?" he asked lightly. Seeing the expression on Ginny's face, he hastily turned to the wall, tapping it to open the entrance.

As they wandered through the bustling crowds at Diagon Alley, the same pattern was repeated. Most people glanced furtively at them, as if they were too bright to look at directly. Considering that the happy couple were frequently bathed in the bright glow of the Marriage Charm, this was not too far from the truth.

One or two people were brave enough to approach Harry, offering their thanks. Ginny took the lead, receiving them with a friendly, open attitude, but firmly moving them on if their attentions became intrusive. Taking a cue from her, Harry relaxed somewhat, reluctantly accepting his status as hero to the masses, and cast his eyes over the shops.

There were still several boarded up or burnt-out shops on Diagon Alley, but everywhere he looked he could see signs of regrowth. Cheerful shop keepers were straightening up tables, repairing windows and painting shop fronts; clearly pleased to be back in business.

By far the brightest, and loudest, of the shops was Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. As he saw the bustling shop, Harry turned to Ginny. "I didn't know that George-"

His words were cut off by a shout of recognition, and George Weasley shot out of the front door, embracing them in a fierce bear-hug. "Thanks for coming, guys!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know if Mum had told you about the grand re-opening, or not." Making a sweeping gesture with his hand, he asked eagerly, "What do you think?"

Taking in the front of the shop, Harry and Ginny's mouth's dropped open.

Underneath a giant banner proudly proclaiming 'Grand re-opening!", the windows were plastered with a series of posters advertising the new range of products.

Harry's lips silently mouthed the words as he read the posters, each one more outrageous than the one before, and Ginny started giggling hysterically.

_Dare you buy the all-new Vold-e-warts?_

_Stick one in their eye – buy a Death Eater pie!_

_Baking a cake? Try our Dark Lard – it's evilicious!_

"George – you can't – can you?" spluttered Harry.

"Why not!" roared George, now laughing himself. His face grew serious and he gripped Harry's shoulders tightly.

"Remember what you told me and Fred when we set the shop up? Well, I reckon that people need a laugh more than ever now, don't you?"

Harry nodded dumbly, a lump in his throat, and Ginny stared up at her gangly brother, a look of fierce approval on her face. "I think it's _perfect_," she said firmly. George beamed.

"She's right," added Harry quietly. "The perfect way to remember him, George."

George's eyes watered for a moment, and he looked at them with a look of profound gratitude. "I was hoping you would both think that," he whispered hoarsely. Raising his voice, he dragged Harry into the shop, bellowing, "Come and meet the heroic Harry Potter! Free autograph with every purchase of ten Galleons or more."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Ginny followed her brother to rescue Harry from his clutches.

Twenty minutes later, Harry's arm felt as if it were about to fall off with the amount of autographs he had given. Ginny sat on the counter, openly laughing as Harry struggled under the onslaught of eager customers, each one desperate to get their free autographs.

Noting her hilarity, George grinned wickedly, and standing on a chair, roared, "Ladies - spend twenty Galleons and collect the set! Be the first to take home a free autograph from the new Mrs Potter!"

Ginny's face paled as cheers of glee erupted, and a wave of excited witches charged straight at her.

By the time they had finally staggered out of the shop, an hour had passed and it was now mid-afternoon. Still sniggering at Ginny's dazed expression, Harry decided to revive her with a shopping spree. After all, he reasoned, what was the point of being rich if he couldn't spend it on those he loved?

Filled with a childish enthusiasm, Harry insisted on dragging Ginny into the most expensive shops on Diagon Alley, ignoring her protests. Seeing the pleasure it gave him to be finally able to buy her the things he knew she liked, Ginny relented and let him spend far more on her than she intended to.

Laden down with bags of all shapes and sizes, the happy couple tottered down Diagon Alley, chatting happily as they made their way slowly towards Gringotts. Struggling under the weight of their purchases, they decided to send most of it directly back to Grimmauld Place via owl, from where they could collect it later. It took five of the largest Post owls they could find to carry it all away, and they continued their journey to Gringotts, carrying only the new clothes they had decided to wear that evening.

"If we ask at the Leaky Cauldron, maybe we could get changed there and go straight out," Harry said excitedly. "It would be a shame to waste time going back to Grimmauld Place first."

Smiling at his obvious excitement about their date, Ginny nodded happily, content to go along with his plans for the evening. As they got closer to the goblin bank, Ginny frowned as she saw a large crowd gathered on the steps. They appeared to be listening to a tall, thin wizard who stood further up the steps, shouting in a high-pitched, grating voice.

"And I tell you that both are at fault – both, I say!"

A chorus of angry jeers broke out, although Ginny noted that there were one or two nods of agreement amongst the crowd as well.

Harry's hand tensed, and the wary expression slipped back over his face as they drew nearer. Ginny, not wanting to ruin their afternoon, guided Harry around the crowd, intending for them to quietly slip by into Gringotts. Harry resisted for a moment, then followed her lead.

They were just moving past the crowd when the tall, thin wizard gave a cry of recognition. "Oho!" he called out to the crowd. "Here's one of them – the great Harry Potter!"

Turning at the sound of his name, Harry frowned at the man. Wanting to avoid an unpleasant scene, Ginny pulled him on and he took a couple of steps with her.

The thin wizard sneered, an ugly expression on his pale face. "I'm not surprised you hurry away, Harry! Ashamed, are you?" His sallow cheeks were flushed, eyes filled with malevolence.

Stopping, Harry turned towards the antagonistic wizard. His eyes narrowed as he took in the shabby robes and gaunt appearance of the man.

"What would I be ashamed of, exactly?" he enquired pleasantly. Ginny shivered as, once more, his voice took on the mild but authoritative tone she associated with danger.

"He pretends not to know!" the man crowed, playing to the crowd. One or two heads turned, looking at Harry, but most looked as puzzled as Ginny felt. "Shall I remind him?" the man jeered insultingly.

A few, isolated cheers rose from the gathered crowd. Passers by stopped, curious to know what was going on. Ginny felt cold – the last thing Harry needed was a major confrontation in public.

"Thanks to you, and your other do-gooders, we have spent the last few days burying our friends and family!" the man spat, his face twisted with hatred.

"You claim to fight for good, to be protecting us from the Dark Lord-" the man's words were laced with sarcasm. "But what is the difference? We are still left grieving our loss, and _you_ are to blame as much as _them_!"

Ginny's face burned with flames of indignation. Was this deluded man seriously trying to say that the Order were as much to blame as the Death Eaters for the deaths in the war?

As if reading her mind, the man continued derisively. "Order of the Phoenix – Death Eaters – what's the difference? Just secret sects trying to control our lives! And don't even get me started on that meddling fool Albus Du-"

"You will _not _insult Albus Dumbledore in my presence!"

Harry's voice cracked like a whip, echoing over the silent crowd. All faces turned to his, gasping at the look of cold fury that shone out of his eyes. Holding his hand, Ginny could feel waves of icy electricity pulsing out of his body and stiffened, unsure of what was happening.

She had never seen Harry like this before - never. His eyes burned with green fire, and the aura of magical power and authority that radiated from him made the crowd fall back from his wrath.

When he spoke again, the audience swayed as deep, hollow vibrations shook the ground under their feet.

"Albus Dumbledore, and others like him, gave their _lives_ for _your _freedom. They had no agenda, no desires of their own. They fought and bled and died so that you might _live_! And you stand there, enjoying the freedom they won through courage and self-sacrifice, and you _dare-_"

There was a sudden loud splintering noise, and the crowd stumbled and fell as the stone steps cracked, spreading out in a fan of widening fissures from Harry's position.

Pulling themselves to their feet, the crowd tripped and fell in their haste to escape. Within seconds the steps emptied as the crowd dispersed, leaving only a handful of witches and wizards surrounding the thin ringleader. They were obviously his cronies, thought Ginny, her anger growing as the small group cautiously followed their leader, who was walking slowly towards Harry, attempting to hide his fear with a thin mask of contempt.

"Pretty words Harry – care to back them up with actions?" The man's face was twisted into a snarl, his lips drawn back, exposing sharp, pointed teeth. He was clearly deranged, thought Ginny – and suddenly she had reached her limit.

"Enough!" she cried. There was a familiar flash of orange light from her eyes, a dull roar and the group of wizards were flung high into the air, crashing down with a thud against a nearby shop wall.

Before they could react, the air was filled with a series of sharp cracks as five figures, bearing the distinctive insignia of the Auror Office, Apperated between the two sides.

Sizing up the situation at a glance, the Lead Auror, who Harry recognised as Auror Morris, the burly man he had confronted at Hogwarts, strode quickly up to them. His face was confident and alert, a far-cry from the strained and grief-stricken man Harry had met only a few days before.

"Mr Potter – Mrs Potter," he said briskly. "Are you both," he paused, glancing from their calm expressions to the crumpled group sprawled on the ground some fifty feet away. His lip twitched as he continued, "unharmed?"

"Yes thank you, Auror Morris. We're quite fine," replied Harry calmly.

"Just a bit confused," added Ginny, frowning. "Who are those people?"

The large man sighed, looking tired. "They call themselves the Third Way," he muttered. "Bunch of nutters, if you ask me."

Harry nodded politely. "They seemed to be holding us jointly responsible, with the Death Eaters, for the casualties of the war," he commented, sounding for all the world as if he were discussing Quidditch scores.

Ginny glanced at him curiously. This was a different Harry to the one she knew and loved. He was sure and controlled – not distant, exactly, but focused and logical. Powerful, too, she reminded herself, looking at the wide cracks spreading over the steps to Gringotts. She shivered, glad that he was on her team. Harry's arm tightened protectively around her as he felt her shiver.

The Auror hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. Harry looked on expressionlessly. Meeting his bright gaze, the Auror nodded, flushing slightly as he recalled his behaviour the last time they had met. He cleared his throat, coming to a decision.

"They do, it seems. They've been turning up all over the world over the last few days, focusing on the most magically populated areas and preaching the same message. They claim that both sides in the war are equally guilty of causing, however indirectly, the large number of casualties sustained amongst the general wizarding community."

Ginny swore loudly, making the burly Auror blush and shift nervously.

"Yes, well, I quite agree with the sentiment, Mrs Potter-"

"If not the phrasing," murmured Harry, smiling. Ginny scowled and gave him a dig in the ribs, secretly pleased to see him relaxing.

"Anyway," the Auror continued. "Normally, they would be pretty harmless crackpots, but in the current climate of fear and grief-"

"Their views are gaining traction," Harry concluded with a sigh. "I was afraid of that."

The Auror turned to the group of witches and wizards, who were being helped shakily to their feet. "The problem is, they haven't actually done anything wrong. We can question them, lock them up for a few days, but having an opinion is no reason to send them to Azkaban."

"More's the pity," Ginny grumbled. Harry gave her an inquisitorial stare. "Just kidding," she said quickly.

"Anyway, I must be going," Auror Jones said, but remained stood in front of them, a look of indecision on his face. Seeing this, Harry asked kindly, "Anything else, Auror Morris?"

The large man nodded, then spoke reluctantly. "I just wanted to say – about the other day, Mr Potter-"

Harry raised a hand, silencing the older man. "Firstly, my name is Harry. Mr Potter was my father. Secondly, you shouldn't blame yourself too much for your actions."

The Auror shook his head in disagreement, a tear starting down his cheek. Ginny crossed to him and rubbed his arm gently, feeling compassion for his obvious grief.

Placing a hand on the Auror's other shoulder, Harry spoke quietly, to avoid drawing attention to the man's distress. "Life knocks us all down, from time to time. You can't avoid that. It's what you do when you get back up that counts."

The burly man nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes and looking relieved. "You're right – Harry. Thank you." He held out a hand to Harry. "And please – call me Bill."

Harry shook his hand, and Ginny, standing on tiptoes to kiss the tall man's cheek, whispered softly, "I have a brother called Bill. He's a brave man too."

The tall Auror looked down at the tiny witch who stood by his side, compassion writ large over her face. "T-Thank you, Mrs –"

"Call me Ginny," she corrected. "Mrs Potter was my mother-in-law."

The man smiled slightly. "Thank you – Ginny." She squeezed his arm, then moved back to stand by Harry again.

"It was nice to meet you Bill," said Harry softly. "Properly." He raised a hand in a farewell gesture, and he and Ginny turned away, climbing the steps towards Gringotts.

Bill Morris stood for a long time, watching them until they disappeared inside the entrance of the goblin bank.

"You're a lucky man, Harry," he murmured, one hand touching his cheek where Ginny had kissed him. He glanced down at the fan-shaped cracks spreading out from where Harry had been standing. He shook his head in quiet disbelief.

"You both are."

He turned and walked back briskly to the waiting Aurors.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – Gringotts, Gryffindor and Goblins

As they approached the towering doors of the bank, Harry's mind was still dwelling on the confrontation with the group who called themselves the Third Way. He couldn't understand how people could be so deluded as to imagine that they would have been better off _not_ fighting the war. He shook his head as he crossed the threshold into Gringotts.

Instantly the air was split with the booming of a magically magnified goblin voice and the whooping of sirens.

"_Warning! Undesirable Number One on the premises! Warning!_

Harry watched in bemusement as great steel bars shot down from the ceiling, clanging into place and securing the area from entrance or exit.

Beside him, Ginny jumped violently, shakily muttering, "What the _hell?_"

"Ah," Harry said as a sudden realisation dawned. "I was afraid of this." Ginny glared at him furiously. "Care to enlighten me, o Great One?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well, you remember how I told you about my last visit to Gringotts, with Ron and Hermione?" asked Harry mildly. Around them, steel bars sealed off all possible escape routes, and goblins were approaching from all directions as fast as their wizened legs could carry them. Harry gulped nervously. They didn't look friendly.

"Oh," said Ginny flatly. "And you didn't think of this before because?" Her voice was laced with heavy irony.

Before Harry could think of a suitably snappy reply, the siren sound ceased abruptly, and the bars withdrew.

"Now what?" asked Ginny irritably, one hand sliding inside her robes to tighten on her wand.

With the bars out of the way, Harry could see more clearly the ugly, angry expressions on the faces of the goblins. Suddenly, he wished that the bars were back.

Swallowing nervously, he raised a hand in what he hoped was a friendly gesture and called out, "Err – hi!" as cheerily as he could. A low, guttural growl met his attempt at friendliness, and the goblin horde took a few steps closer.

"Any more bright ideas?" muttered Ginny at his side. Harry glanced at her, and saw to his alarm that her eyes were beginning to glow fiercely with the strange orange light. Shaking his head slightly, he whispered back, "Not that. We need to talk to the Head Goblin."

Clearing his throat, he spoke clearly and calmly. "I wish to speak to Ragnok, the Head Goblin."

Low mutterings and whispers greeted his words, and the huddled mass of goblins slowly moved apart as Ragnok, the Head Goblin, stepped forward. Having never seen him, but only heard stories from Bill Weasley, Harry was not sure what to expect.

The goblin in front of him was clearly very old, his skin wrinkled even by goblin standards. There was a cold, calculating look in his eyes, however, that warned Harry to be very careful in his dealings with him.

"What do you wish of me, Harry Potter?" rasped the goblin in a low, harsh voice.

Glancing at Ginny to gain courage, Harry looked directly into Ragnok's cold, serpent-like eyes. "I have come here to make amends for the crimes I have committed, on my behalf and that of my friends, against Gringotts." His voice was once more calm and authoritative, the low waves of magical power emanating from him causing some consternation amongst the watching goblins.

"So you admit your crimes?" enquired the Head Goblin.

Harry nodded. "I do. I broke into your vaults, took an object from within them and escaped with the aid of your captive dragon."

"Not to mention dishonouring the proud reputation of Gringott's bank, and causing a great deal of damage to our historic building!" snapped Ragnok, his eyes filled with fury.

"That too," replied Harry evenly.

The goblin nodded his crooked head slowly. A calculating look shone in his eyes and he looked Ginny up and down in a manner which made her bristle.

"I assume that you are offering financial compensation, and the female is not an offering of-", he paused, his long tongue flicking over his thin lips. "Recompense?"

Green light flared from Harry's eyes and the ground under his feet shifted and rumbled. Ragnok, unperturbed, brushed the dust falling from the new cracks in the ceiling off his shoulders.

"Evidently not," he said, smiling coldly at Harry.

Harry just stared, and the goblin dropped his eyes, unable to meet his gaze.

"Well," he said, turning to a goblin who stood deferentially behind him. "The reckoning, Wiglaf?"

The other goblin shuffled forward, pulling a thick roll of parchment from his pocket. Snatching it from his hand without a word, Ragnok slowly unfurled it, grinning nastily as it fell to the ground and rolled towards Harry's feet.

Clearly enjoying the moment, the goblin laboriously fed the roll through his hands until he reached the bottom. "Ah," he said theatrically. "Here we are."

Ginny shifted in annoyance, her temper fraying.

"The combined total for repairs to the building, purchase of a new dragon and, of course a substantial penalty for improper banking conduct is-"

Ginny ground her teeth in annoyance as the goblin paused again, but Harry stood calmly, seemingly carved out of stone.

"Three million, four-hundred thousand Galleons, twenty five Sickles and, er, three Knuts," the goblin said with satisfaction. Waves of suppressed glee echoed around the room as the goblins rubbed their hands greedily.

"Or, to put it another way," continued Ragnok - his face splitting into a wide, malevolent grin. "Our estimate of the total value of your bank vaults and property. All of it."

Harry didn't respond, but Ginny gasped and flinched. Her mind raced as she remembered their plans for Grimmauld Place, the house in the country. This couldn't be right, she thought furiously. Harry had only broken in to Gringotts to save them all – and this was how he was repaid?

After a long silence, Harry spoke. His voice was calm and mild, seemingly unconcerned. Ginny was stunned by his self control.

"Ah, yes. I thought it might be, somehow."

His eyes fixed on Ragnok.

"There is, however, the small matter – of this?"

In one smooth motion, he pulled out his arm from under his robes, holding aloft the smooth, shining blade of Godric Gryffindor's sword.

The reaction of the goblins was instantaneous. Surging forward with a roar, their eyes glinting with greed and insatiable lust, they had covered half the distance between them and Harry when Ragnok let out an almighty shout.

"Enough!"

The goblins halted, cowering at the fury in his voice, and slunk backwards again. Ginny noticed with a shiver that their eyes never left the sword, even as they backed away.

"That sword belongs to us!" Ragnok's voice had lost its calm oiliness, Ginny noted with satisfaction. He was quivering and tense.

"That, I'm afraid, is debatable," Harry replied calmly. "You see, I returned this sword to your colleague Griphook, in exchange for his help-"

"We do not speak his name! He is banished!" Ragnok's voice was strident and enraged.

"I'm sorry to hear that – I quite liked him really," Harry mildly responded.

"Well, I returned the sword in return for help. Unfortunately, it seems the sword did not agree with your claim, and when needed, returned to Neville Longbottom in his hour of need."

"Trickery! Deceit on the part of the wand-carriers!" Ragnok was beyond furious now. His lips slavered, drool dripping onto the floor as he snarled and gnashed his teeth.

"I thought you might see it that way," replied Harry conversationally. Ginny frowned – was it her imagination, or was this conversation going exactly as Harry had intended?

"How would you feel about a small wager?" Harry enquired smoothly. The Head Goblin looked at Harry with an evil expression, calming slightly as the conversation shifted back to financial transactions.

"Speak," he commanded insultingly. Ginny growled between clenched teeth at his lack of respect, and her eyes flashed orange, ready to strike.

Ignoring the insult so completely that Ginny wondered if he'd missed it, Harry continued calmly.

"You feel that I owe you a large sum of money. I feel that you have no further claim to the sword-"

"You can't seriously expect me to agree to an exchange, boy?" A low, menacing chuckle washed over the room.

"No," agreed Harry. "I believe I mentioned a wager." He paused. "You are familiar with the term, I take it?" Ginny grinned as Ragnok's face flushed with anger. _Two can play at that game, goblin_, she thought with satisfaction.

"Of course," he snapped. "Out with it."

"Very well," replied Harry. Moving so swiftly that his movements were a blur, he whirled, raised the sword high over his shoulder and hurled it with incredible speed at the nearest stone wall.

With a blinding blue flash, the sword buried itself into the stone, quivering. Only the handle and the hilt of the blade were visible.

The goblins gasped in amazement at Harry's display of wandless magic.

"Trickery!" roared Ragnok.

"Not so," countered Harry. "If you examine the sword with your magic, you will find that it is held in place with a powerful Ownership Charm. It cannot be forcibly removed without pulling down the wall, and destroying the bank."

Ginny looked upwards at the ceiling. Harry was quite right, she realised. The wall in which the sword was buried was supporting the entire weight of the building.

"Now, here is the wager," Harry continued casually. "If you can remove the sword from the wall, I pay you what you want and you keep the sword. If I can, I pay you nothing and decide what to do with the sword myself."

He paused, looking at Ragnok with a challenging expression. "Do we have a deal, goblin?"

Ragnok stared at Harry for a second, then roared with laughter. "Foolish boy," he croaked. "We already know we own the sword. Now we will take it, and all your gold too!"

The room erupted in harsh cackles and insults. Harry was unperturbed.

"Do we have a deal?" he repeated.

Ragnok trotted over to the sword and moved his wrinkled hands over it in a complex series of movements, muttering something too low to make out.

"It appears to be in order. We have a deal," he said. Then, moving faster than Ginny would have thought him capable of, he shot out his hand, and pulled the handle of the sword mightily.

The sword quivered, but didn't budge.

Straining, Ragnok gripped with both hands and heaved as hard as he could, but it was no good. The sword remained firmly embedded in the stone.

Panting, he called over the largest, meanest looking goblins he could. Each heaved and strained, attempting to shift the sword, but it didn't move as much as an inch.

Slumped on the floor, breathing raggedly, he glared at Harry speechlessly.

Harry walked over to the wall and rested his hand on the sword. "May I?" he enquired pleasantly.

Ragnok glared, then his expression shifted. "Not you," he panted, extending a long, thin finger to point directly at Ginny. "Her."

"Me?" cried Ginny. "That wasn't the deal, you filthy cheating toad!"

The goblin horde shifted and moved forward, eyes alight with malice. "I'm changing the deal," hissed Ragnok.

Harry paused for a moment, appearing nervous. "Very well," he said finally. "Ginny?"

Slowly, Ginny made her way over to him, looking up into his face. "Are you sure about this?" she asked nervously.

Harry gave her a long, loving look without replying, his green eyes alight with a mixture of passion and respect.

Shrugging, she rested her hand on the cool handle. "Well, here goes nothing!" she muttered under her breath, pulling on the handle.

In one smooth movement, the shining blade of the sword slid easily out of the wall. Stunned, Ginny would have fallen if Harry hadn't steadied her from behind. "Well done," he whispered in her ear.

She turned to him unsteadily. "Did you know?" she said shakily.

Harry's eyes twinkled lovingly. "The rules on this were unclear," he said. "But if anyone could Ginny – it would be you, even more than me."

The goblins were wailing desolately, beside themselves at the loss of their beloved sword. Ragnok was still slumped on the ground, unable to speak.

"Can I?" asked Harry, gesturing to the sword. Ginny passed it to him without a word, and he held it high above his head once more.

"As you have just witnessed," he called out, his voice ringing around the room. "The sword belongs to us, the Gryffindors of Hogwarts. By rights, I should take this sword and never return it."

A fresh wail of woe erupted from the goblins. Harry waved them to silence.

"However," he continued. Ragnok looked up, a dawning look of hope crossing his repulsive face. "I happen to believe that the true ownership of this sword lies somewhere between the creators and the keepers."

He turned and slid the sword back into the wall.

"That is why I leave it in trust to you, both as a reminder of our deal and a recognition of my belief. The sword will remain on display here until such time as a Gryffindor needs it again."

He turned to Ragnok, who had a curious expression on his face.

"Do we have a deal, Ragnok?" he said, extending a hand towards him. Ragnok nodded and shook Harry's hand.

"Good," replied Harry, turning towards the exit. Ginny remained where she was. "Er, Harry?"

"Hmm?" he said absently, turning towards her.

"Aren't you forgetting why we came here in the first place?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh," said Harry in mock surprise. "To find out how much gold is in my vaults. That's okay – Ragnok told us already. Three million, four hundred thousand Galleons-"

"Twenty-five Sickles," Ginny added, smiling.

"And three Knuts," Harry finished, grinning back. He turned to Ragnok. "That is exactly how much gold I expect to find when I next visit my vaults," he said, his voice stern.

"But – but that included our estimate of your property assets-" spluttered Ragnok.

"Well," said Harry, his eyes flashing, "I'm changing the deal." He leaned close to Ragnok, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Just like you did."

Straightening up, he spoke normally again, "Unless of course," he nodded at the sword, "You wanted me to make a - withdrawal?"

Defeated, the Head Goblin shook his head.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Ginny said lightly. She took Harry's arm and they walked out together into the afternoon sunlight.

Harry stood for a moment, drinking in the glorious afternoon sun, his hands quivering as the tension slowly drained from his body, leaving him feeling curiously hollow.

Dancing lightly up to him, Ginny planted a scorching kiss on his lips that kick-started his body in an instant. His brain felt as if it were melting and dimly sent out frantic reminders to his body - _keep breathing_.

A loud cheer echoed around the square, and Ginny pulled slightly apart from Harry as they looked around. A team from Magical Movements were finishing repairs to a nearby shop, and they had clearly caught sight of the couple's passionate clinch. They whistled approvingly and clapped their hands at the sight, wide grins on their faces.

Ginny, turning back to Harry with a wicked expression on her face, whispered breathily, "Want to give them something to really cheer about?"

Before Harry could reply, her lips found his again and his world exploded into a colourful kaleidoscope of sensation. He could barely hear the roar of approval from the watching wizards as his arms tightened around Ginny's back and he pressed himself closer to her.

When Harry finally returned to his senses, he found that he and Ginny were walking slowly in the general direction of the Leaky Cauldron. He looked over his shoulder, startled. Gringotts was nowhere to be seen. Spotting his confused expression, Ginny laughed softly, slipping a warm arm around his waist.

"Oh, you're back now, are you?" she murmured, a slow smile of satisfaction playing at the corners of her mouth. Harry blushed, then grinned broadly. Mirroring her arm, he slung his casually over her shoulders, his fingers softly toying with a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"How come," he said quietly, "I can face the goblins of Gringotts, but one kiss from you leaves me in a puddle on the floor?"

Ginny smiled up at him, reaching up to touch his face. "That's how it should be Harry – didn't you know?"

Harry shook his head regretfully. "If I had, I would have kissed you the first time we met."

Laughing, Ginny pictured the scene. "Oh right, in front of my family on Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters? Besides," she scolded, "I was only ten years old."

"That's true," Harry said glumly. He grinned. "Bet you were still a good kisser though," he added – then winced as Ginny punched him on the arm.

Still chuckling at his joke, he led Ginny slowly towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. They chatted quietly as they walked, avoiding mentioning their visit to Gringotts, the fight with the Third Way group, or anything else serious and adult. Ginny found that just being with Harry, like any other ordinary couple, was far more enjoyable than she had imagined. Seeming to read her mind, Harry glanced at her, smiling at her relaxed face.

"This is nice, isn't it? Just being together," he murmured. "After these last few days-"

Ginny stopped his words with a glance, resting her head on his chest as they slowed to a standstill. She looked up, her chin pressing on his chest as she looked up at him.

"Let's not talk about that," she commanded softly. "Let's just be-"

"Normal?" Harry asked teasingly. Ginny nodded solemnly. "Normal," she agreed, her voice quavering as she found herself suddenly on the verge of tears. She pulled away from Harry, turning her back as she angrily dashed away the hot tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. What was _wrong_ with her, she thought furiously. She never used to cry like this before.

Harry's warm hands rested on her shoulders from behind, and he stood close to her, not attempting to speak or pull her closer. Finally, she turned and gazed up at him, her eyes silently thanking him for his tact.

Harry gazed back, taking in her tired, wide-eyed expression. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind romance, hasn't it?", he asked quietly. Ginny nodded jerkily, her expression a mix of relief and guilt.

"I _do _love you, Harry – it's not that. It's like you say – a whirlwind, and it takes my breath away sometimes." Ginny's eyes looked searchingly into his, hoping that he understood. She relaxed when she saw the agreement in his face. Of course he understood – it must feel the same for him.

"Ginny – let's get changed, go out and just have a night of being an ordinary couple who haven't really spent much time together, all right?" And this weekend, we'll get the Weasley's together and have some fun, Harry continued silently. Ginny's family need her as well, he reminded himself – and it wasn't healthy to spend _all_ their time together.

Ginny nodded, relaxed again. Wiping the last few tears away, she quietly replied, "That sounds perfect. Sorry," she added. Harry gave her a look that clearly stated apologies weren't needed, and she smiled, taking his hand in hers.

"Wait until you see my new dress," she said excitedly as they walked into the Leaky Cauldron.

Although Harry had taken his time changing, anxious to look right for Ginny, he was still ready long before her. Taking a last look in the mirror, Harry nervously adjusted the green tie that Ginny had picked out for him and smoothed out imaginary creases in his smart new suit jacket. "Just like the Muggles wear," the shopkeeper had told him proudly. Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that Muggle suits didn't come with Impervious Charms as standard, or that they weren't woven from Unicorn mane either, but he loved the look of the suit. The fact that it could resist Dragon flame was an added bonus, he thought with a smile.

Running a hand over his hair in a last, futile attempt to make it lie flat, Harry called through the closed door to the connecting room, letting Ginny know that he would wait downstairs, and went down to the bar.

The Leaky Cauldron was still doing a roaring trade, and Harry found himself inundated with offers of free food, drinks, and – in the case of a large, inebriated wizard with a red face – the offer of his daughter's hand in marriage. Politely declining the proposal, Harry made his way to the bar, privately hoping that Ginny wouldn't hear about _that_.

He quietly ordered a Butterbeer, insisting on paying, and sat sipping it on a barstool, lost in thought. Although he had promised Ginny that they wouldn't talk about the events of the day, it didn't mean that _he_ couldn't think about them.

The confrontation with Ragnok and the other goblins had been expected, but regretful. Harry had hoped to show Ginny the contents of their shared vaults, and in the back of his mind had been the thought that there might be some antique Potter jewellery there – possibly even some wedding rings…

He blinked as he recalled the Head Goblin's estimation of his worth – over three million Galleons! Harry had never heard of anyone being that rich, and he was unsure what to do with it all. He knew that there was little hope of Mr and Mrs Weasley accepting any of it – they had made that perfectly clear – and he had spent so long without money that his needs were simple and few.

Shaking his head, he considered the other confrontation of the day – the group that called themselves the Third Way. It was disturbing to learn that such extreme viewpoints were gaining popularity amongst the magical community, and he vowed to talk to Kingsley Shaklebolt about it at the Order meeting next week.

As Harry took a long swig of Butterbeer to clear his thoughts, he was suddenly aware of the noise level in the busy bar falling away. He turned curiously, wondering what had captured everyone's attention. As he followed their gaze, Harry's heart suddenly leapt into his throat, contracted and shuddered to a halt.

Standing in the middle of the bar, looking directly at him, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

The Butterbeer slipped absently from his nerveless hands, smashing foamily on the floor. Harry didn't care. He didn't notice. Every fibre of his being was fixed on the young witch in front of him. He staggered to his feet, stumbling as his legs reluctantly obeyed his commands, and drank in the sight in front of him.

Ginny's face glowed with happiness, her eyes bright and sparkling. Her hair looked – different, Harry noticed. He couldn't say why, but he knew that he liked it. With a great effort, Harry tore his eyes away from her face to take in the dress that she had been keeping hidden from him all afternoon.

Harry was no expert on dresses, but even he could see how well it flattered Ginny's slim figure. It floated airily where it should, fitted closely where it mattered and overall did things to Harry's addled brain that he wasn't entirely certain were legal. And then, there was the colour – a deep rich green which perfectly set off her fiery hair and highlighted her pale, flawless skin…

His internal rhapsodising, which could have gone on for some time, was interrupted by a more down-to-earth, but equally positive reaction. The inebriated wizard in the corner let out a low, heartfelt wolf whistle, and the silence was broken. The patrons of the bar, chuckling at the compliment, turned back to their conversations, leaving the couple in peace.

Harry quickly crossed the room, taking Ginny's cool hands in his trembling ones. "Ginny," he whispered hoarsely, "You look-" He couldn't think of a word adequate to describe how she looked, and settled for, "Wow!"

Ginny giggled, pleased at his response. She took a half-step back, casting a critical eye over his ensemble. He looked pretty wow himself, she thought. The tie she had chosen perfectly matched his eyes – and her dress, she thought smugly. The suit enhanced his tall, sinewy frame, highlighting his broad shoulders and trim waist. Mmm, she thought with a predatory look in her eyes, you are a dish, Harry Potter.

Noting her hungry expression, Harry said laughingly, "You're making me feel like the main course, Ginny!" Ginny just stared at him and Harry flushed. The month or so until her birthday suddenly seemed like an eternity.

Clearing his throat, Harry offered Ginny his arm and they stepped out into the early evening air.

The walk back towards the park was slow and carefree. Ginny, still enthralled by the strange sights of Muggle London, was looking all her around her. Harry, equally enthralled, had his eyes firmly fixed on her. He delighted in the envious looks he received from passing men, feeling a sense of freedom as their eyes slipped by him without lingering on his scar, to stare openly at the attractive redhead.

Their journey was not a silent one, however. They talked, laughed, joked, teased and bickered all the way to the park, eyes flashing with joy at their mutual attraction. An elderly couple walking their dog in the park smiled knowingly as they watched the younger pair walking past talking animatedly.

Arguing heatedly about the upcoming European Quidditch Championships, Harry and Ginny, walking closely together with their hands firmly entwined, ambled across the park in the gathering twilight – for once oblivious to the world around them.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 – A night more ordinary

Harry stood for a moment, drinking in the glorious afternoon sun, his hands quivering as the tension slowly drained from his body, leaving him feeling curiously hollow.

Dancing lightly up to him, Ginny planted a scorching kiss on his lips that kick-started his body in an instant. His brain felt as if it were melting and dimly sent out frantic reminders to his body - _keep breathing_.

A loud cheer echoed around the square, and Ginny pulled slightly apart from Harry as they looked around. A team from Magical Movements were finishing repairs to a nearby shop, and they had clearly caught sight of the couple's passionate clinch. They whistled approvingly and clapped their hands at the sight, wide grins on their faces.

Ginny, turning back to Harry with a wicked expression on her face, whispered breathily, "Want to give them something to really cheer about?"

Before Harry could reply, her lips found his again and his world exploded into a colourful kaleidoscope of sensation. He could barely hear the roar of approval from the watching wizards as his arms tightened around Ginny's back and he pressed himself closer to her.

When Harry finally returned to his senses, he found that he and Ginny were walking slowly in the general direction of the Leaky Cauldron. He looked over his shoulder, startled. Gringotts was nowhere to be seen. Spotting his confused expression, Ginny laughed softly, slipping a warm arm around his waist.

"Oh, you're back now, are you?" she murmured, a slow smile of satisfaction playing at the corners of her mouth. Harry blushed, then grinned broadly. Mirroring her arm, he slung his casually over her shoulders, his fingers softly toying with a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"How come," he said quietly, "I can face the goblins of Gringotts, but one kiss from you leaves me in a puddle on the floor?"

Ginny smiled up at him, reaching up to touch his face. "That's how it should be Harry – didn't you know?"

Harry shook his head regretfully. "If I had, I would have kissed you the first time we met."

Laughing, Ginny pictured the scene. "Oh right, in front of my family on Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters? Besides," she scolded. "I was only ten years old."

"That's true," Harry said glumly. He grinned. "Bet you were still a good kisser though," he added – then winced as Ginny punched him on the arm.

Still chuckling at his joke, he led Ginny slowly towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. They chatted quietly as they walked, avoiding mentioning their visit to Gringotts, the fight with the Third Way group, or anything else serious and adult. Ginny found that just being with Harry, like any other ordinary couple, was far more enjoyable than she had imagined. Seeming to read her mind, Harry glanced at her, smiling at her relaxed face.

"This is nice, isn't it? Just being together," he murmured. "After these last few days-"

Ginny stopped his words with a glance, resting her head on his chest as they slowed to a standstill. She looked up, her chin pressing on his chest as she looked up at him.

"Let's not talk about that," she commanded softly. "Let's just be-"

"Normal?" Harry asked teasingly. Ginny nodded solemnly. "Normal," she agreed, her voice quavering as she found herself suddenly on the verge of tears. She pulled away from Harry, turning her back as she angrily dashed away the hot tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. What was _wrong_ with her, she thought furiously. She never used to cry like this before.

Harry's warm hands rested on her shoulders from behind, and he stood close to her, not attempting to speak or pull her closer. Finally, she turned and gazed up at him, her eyes silently thanking him for his tact.

Harry gazed back, taking in her tired, wide-eyed expression. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind romance, hasn't it?", he asked quietly. Ginny nodded jerkily, her expression a mix of relief and guilt.

"I _do _love you, Harry – it's not that. It's like you say – a whirlwind, and it takes my breath away sometimes." Ginny's eyes looked searchingly into his, hoping that he understood. She relaxed when she saw the agreement in his face. Of course he understood – it must feel the same for him.

"Ginny – let's get changed, go out and just have a night of being an ordinary couple who haven't really spent much time together, all right?" And this weekend, we'll get the Weasley's together and have some fun, Harry continued silently. Ginny's family need her as well, he reminded himself – and it wasn't healthy to spend _all_ their time together.

Ginny nodded, relaxed again. Wiping the last few tears away, she quietly replied, "That sounds perfect. Sorry," she added. Harry gave her a look that clearly stated apologies weren't needed, and she smiled, taking his hand in hers.

"Wait until you see my new dress," she said excitedly as they walked into the Leaky Cauldron.

Although Harry had taken his time changing, anxious to look right for Ginny, he was still ready long before her. Taking a last look in the mirror, Harry nervously adjusted the green tie that Ginny had picked out for him and smoothed out imaginary creases in his smart new suit jacket. "Just like the Muggles wear," the shopkeeper had told him proudly. Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that Muggle suits didn't come with Impervious Charms as standard, or that they weren't woven from Unicorn mane either, but he loved the look of the suit. The fact that it could resist Dragon flame was an added bonus, he thought with a smile.

Running a hand over his hair in a last, futile attempt to make it lie flat, Harry called through the closed door the connecting room, letting Ginny know that he would wait downstairs, and went down to the bar.

The Leaky Cauldron was still doing a roaring trade, and Harry found himself inundated with offers of free food, drinks, and – in the case of a large, inebriated wizard with a red face – the offer of his daughter's hand in marriage. Politely declining the proposal, Harry made his way to the bar, privately hoping that Ginny wouldn't hear about _that_ offer.

He quietly ordered a Butterbeer, insisting on paying, and sat sipping it on a barstool, lost in thought. Although he had promised Ginny that they wouldn't talk about the events of the day, it didn't mean that _he_ couldn't think about them.

The confrontation with Ragnok and the other goblins had been expected, but regretful. Harry had hoped to show Ginny the contents of their shared vaults, and in the back of his mind had been the thought that there might be some antique Potter jewellery there – possibly even some wedding rings…

He blinked as he recalled the Head Goblin's estimation of his worth – over three million Galleons! Harry had never heard of anyone being that rich, and he was unsure what to do with it all. He knew that there was little hope of Mr and Mrs Weasley accepting any of it – they had made that perfectly clear – and he had spent so long without money that his needs were simple and few.

Shaking his head, he considered the other confrontation of the day – the group that called themselves the Third Way. It was disturbing to learn that such extreme viewpoints were gaining popularity amongst the magical community, and he vowed to talk to Kingsley Shaklebolt about it at the Order meeting next week.

As Harry took a long swig of Butterbeer to clear his thoughts, he was suddenly aware of the noise level in the busy bar falling away. He turned curiously, wondering what had captured everyone's attention. As he followed their gaze, Harry's heart suddenly leapt into his throat, contracted and shuddered to a halt.

Standing in the middle of the bar, looking directly at him, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

The Butterbeer slipped absently from his nerveless hands, smashing foamily on the floor. Harry didn't care. He didn't notice. Every fibre of his being was fixed on the young witch in front of him. He staggered to his feet, stumbling as his legs reluctantly obeyed his commands, and drank in the sight in front of him.

Ginny's face glowed with happiness, her eyes bright and sparkling. Her hair looked – different, Harry noticed. He couldn't say why, but he knew that he liked it. With a great effort, Harry tore his eyes away from her face to take in the dress that she had been keeping hidden from him all afternoon.

Harry was no expert on dresses, but even he could see how well it flattered Ginny's slim figure. It floated airily where it should, fitted closely where it mattered and overall did things to Harry's addled brain that he wasn't entirely certain were legal. And then, there was the colour – a deep rich green which perfectly set off her fiery hair and highlighted her pale, flawless skin…

His internal rhapsodising, which could have gone on for some time, was interrupted by a more down-to-earth, but equally positive reaction. The inebriated wizard in the corner let out a low, heartfelt wolf whistle, and the silence was broken. The patrons of the bar, chuckling at the compliment, turned back to their conversations, leaving the couple in peace.

Harry quickly crossed the room, taking Ginny's cool hands in his trembling ones. "Ginny," he whispered hoarsely, "You look-" He couldn't think of a word adequate to describe how she looked, and settled for, "Wow!"

Ginny giggled, pleased at his response. She took a half-step back, casting a critical eye over his ensemble. He looked pretty wow himself, she thought. The tie she had chosen perfectly matched his eyes – and her dress, she thought smugly. The suit enhanced his tall, sinewy frame, highlighting his broad shoulders and trim waist. Mmm, she thought with a predatory look in her eyes, you are a dish, Harry Potter.

Noting her hungry expression, Harry said laughingly, "You're making me feel like the main course, Ginny!" Ginny just stared at him and Harry flushed. The month or so until her birthday suddenly seemed like an eternity.

Clearing his throat, Harry offered Ginny his arm and they stepped out into the early evening air.

The walk back towards the park was slow and carefree. Ginny, still enthralled by the strange sights of Muggle London, was looking all her around her. Harry, equally enthralled, had his eyes firmly fixed on her. He delighted in the envious looks he received from passing men, feeling a sense of freedom as their eyes slipped by him without lingering on his scar, to stare openly at the attractive redhead.

Their journey was not a silent one, however. They talked, laughed, joked, teased and bickered all the way to the park, eyes flashing with joy at their mutual attraction. An elderly couple walking their dog in the park smiled knowingly as they watched the younger pair walking past talking animatedly.

Arguing heatedly about the upcoming European Quidditch Championships, Harry and Ginny, walking closely together with their hands firmly entwined, ambled across the park in the gathering twilight – for once oblivious to the world around them.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 – Bearding the lion

_Ruined turrets clawed the sky. Blood pooled on the ground. A pair of great wings unfurled, and the chill air was split by a desperate cry of pain._

"Noooooo!"

Heart pounding, Harry sat bolt upright, staring wildly around him into the gloomy recesses of their room. Taking a shuddering breath in, he concentrated hard on calming the furious beating of his galloping heartbeat.

_Just a dream Harry – just a bad dream. Everyone has them, nothing to worry about…_

Harry's lips twitched with the barest suggestion of a smile, but his eyes were cold and humourless. He glared around him, his stare seeming to penetrate far beyond the walls of the Burrow. His body was tense and rigid, the sheets pooled around his waist. Livid against his pale skin, the red scar on his chest stood out vividly – a permanent reminder of recent events.

As the after-effects of the dream left him, he dragged a shaking hand over his clammy face, grimacing at the memories remaining. It had seemed so real – more than real, even.

"Harry?"

A sleepy voice brought him back to the present. Looking to his left, he could see Ginny's glorious hair even in the dim light of dawn and he carefully lay down again, stroking her hair tenderly.

"It's okay Gin – just a bad dream," he murmured softly, hoping that she would drift off again. Of course, he should have known better. Her eyelids fluttered and her brow furrowed as she strove to wake up.

"Dream? Was it about the battle again?" she said croakily, her brown eyes peering worriedly at him.

Harry pressed himself closer to Ginny, moulding his body against her back and folding his arm around her waist. "Nah, your brothers," he replied lightly as he pulled her even closer.

The warmth from his body lulled Ginny back into sleep again, but not before she had the last word. "To…be…continued," she whispered tiredly as her eyes closed again.

Harry's eyes crinkled with amusement as he felt her breathing deepen and become regular. Even half-asleep, there was no getting one over on Ginny. He scowled again as he thought over the dream. Not exactly the way he preferred to start the day. Especially after last night.

The lines on his face softened as he concentrated on those memories, deliberately pushing the dream to one side for now. Their 'first date' had been an unqualified success. The restaurant in the park had been perfect, the food delicious, but Harry found that his over-riding memory was that of Ginny's beautiful, animated face as they had endlessly talked.

He closed his eyes, relishing the memories now flooding in. They had fallen into an easy conversation which flowed naturally from one topic to another, punctuated by comfortable moments of silence before picking up another thread. Although their day had been full of events, they had made an unspoken decision not to dwell on them and their talk ranged from the frivolous to the personal without ever becoming too serious.

Harry smiled broadly without opening his eyes as he remembered the end of the evening. Without realising, they had been the last to leave the restaurant, and they had only left once the waiters started clearing all the tables and stacking up chairs. As they walked back towards Grimmauld Place, Harry had stopped her several times to share heated, lingering kisses that left them both trembling. Finally noticing the lateness of the hour, Harry had insisted on Apperating them directly back to the Burrow.

His cheeks heated as he remembered exactly where they had Disapperated – right on this bed. Ginny had found that highly amusing and quizzed Harry repeatedly on exactly what was going through his mind. Flustered, Harry's face had revealed all too clearly his thoughts, and Ginny had laughingly threatened him with a Bat Bogey Hex if he didn't stop trying to corrupt an innocent Underage witch with his lustful fantasies.

Still smiling at the thought, he drifted off into a light sleep – and this time his dreams were of an entirely different nature.

The sun was beginning to filter in to the quiet room when Ginny stirred, opening her eyes to see Harry's sleeping face inches from hers. Gently kissing his forehead, she eased herself from under the comforting weight of his arm and padded lightly to the window.

Ducking behind the curtains she glanced out over the orchard, sleepily rubbing her eyes and tucking her hair behind her ears. As her eyes roamed over the garden under the window, she gave a sudden start as she saw an unexpected sight.

Hopping from one foot to another in excitement, covered from head to foot with plaster and dust, Kreacher waved frantically, eagerly beckoning for her to join him.

Curious to see what had brought the ancient elf to the Burrow, Ginny reached for her dressing gown and, casting a last look at Harry's heavily sleeping figure, slipped through the door and down the stairs.

Wrapping the dressing gown around her to ward off the cool morning air, Ginny walked quickly to where she had seen Kreacher waiting. He wasn't hard to spot. His face and body were streaked with dirt and there was a distinct smell of wet paint around him, but his face was beaming with barely repressed excitement.

"Mistress Ginny, Mistress Ginny – Kreacher has been busy!" he burst out in his croaking voice as soon as she got within earshot.

Putting a finger to her lips, gesturing for him to follow her, she moved a safe distance from the house and spoke softly. "What have you been doing Kreacher – and what brings you here?" she enquired kindly.

Kreacher's eyes sparkled with joy. "We has finished Mistress!" he exclaimed proudly. "We have not stopped since you told us and we has finished!"

To her alarm, Ginny noted that the elderly house-elf swayed unsteadily on his long feet, clearly exhausted. Guiding him hurriedly to a nearby log, she gently forced him to sit, settling herself next to him.

"Kreacher," she began tentatively. "When was the last time you ate or slept?"

"Not since Master summoned us to do his noble work Mistress! We has worked none-stop all night to finish the work you asked of us."

Ginny groaned softly. "Kreacher, we didn't mean that you all starve yourself – we could have waited you know."

Kreacher nodded furiously, his ears flapping in the light wind. Ginny stifled a giggle at the sight, chastising herself for being so vague with her instructions. "Kreacher knows this Mistress, but we all wanted to help Master and Mistress Potter in return for all their goodness to us house-elves!"

He paused and looked up at Ginny, a shy expression on his wrinkled face. "Would Mistress like to see, while Master is asleep?"

Ginny considered for a moment. She didn't know how Harry would feel about her seeing the house without him, but the expectant look on Kreacher's face was impossible to refuse. Shaking her head slightly, she replied, "Just let me go and get-"

Ginny stopped abruptly as she found herself back in her room.

"-changed, Mistress?" Kreacher's face peered innocently up at hers. Ginny frowned slightly. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn that there was a twinkle of amusement in the elf's lamp-like eyes. Shrugging it off, she quickly pulled some clothes from her dresser and headed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she came back into the room, tying back her long hair and idly rubbing her tired eyes. Crossing softly towards the bed, her face brightened as she cast her eyes over the blanket-covered lump that was Harry. Resisting the temptation to crawl back into bed with him, she gently pulled the blankets back to expose his peaceful face.

"Harry?" Her voice was soft and playful. Harry let out a snort and snuggled further down under the blankets. Ginny shook her head amusedly. Pulling the blankets back further, she tried again.

"Harry – wake up…" In response, Harry mumbled something incoherent and turned away. Ginny sighed. Clearly Harry was not a morning person.

A loud whisper by her ear made her jump. "Master must be very tired not to obey his Mistress!"

Smiling at his choice of words, Ginny glanced down at Kreacher's eager face, which was staring avidly at Harry's sleeping form. Padding quietly to a small writing desk, she pulled out a small piece of parchment and looked around for a quill. "Kreacher-"

An enormous quill with bright green feathers was suddenly waved in front of her. Ginny frowned again, looking narrowly at the house-elf. There was definitely a mischievous glint in his eyes. Gratefully taking the quill from him, she muttered, "You know, I think you and me are going to get along just fine."

Kreacher's eyes sparkled with glee.

Quickly scribbling a note explaining where she was going, Ginny handed the quill back to Kreacher and silently moved back towards the bed, propping the note up on the small table next to Harry's head. Unable to resist, she ran a hand lovingly through his thick dark hair, tousling it up even more. Harry murmured slightly and turned towards Ginny, still asleep.

Looking down at his peaceful, relaxed face, Ginny grinned evilly as a thought occurred to her. Speaking quietly over her shoulder, she said, "Kreacher?"

The quill was suddenly back in her hand. Ginny turned and smiled appreciatively at the small elf. "Yep - just fine," she murmured, moving towards Harry's face with the quill in her hand.

A few minutes later, still giggling to herself, Ginny stepped out into the cool morning air and stretched lithely, working out the remaining aches from her recent injuries. She breathed in a huge lungful of crisp, clean air and exhaled explosively, finally waking up fully. Looking down, she saw Kreacher once again hopping on the spot with excitement, a look of suppressed glee in his eyes.

"Come on then," Ginny said, holding out a hand towards him. Taking her outstretched hand reverently, the house-elf closed his eyes and they vanished with a loud crack.

By the time that Harry finally opened his eyes, the sun had climbed into the sky and bright shafts of light were creeping across the floor towards the bed. He blinked blearily a few times, lifting his head from the pillows, then flung his body to the left, wanting to pounce on Ginny while she slept.

With a loud thud, he toppled off the empty bed and crashed to the floor, hitting his elbow on the bed-side table. As he lay dazedly on the polished wood floor, a small piece of parchment fluttered down from above, landing on his bare chest. Squinting at the blurred letters, he recognised Ginny's delicate handwriting and he groped above his head for the glasses he had left on the table. Closing his hand over them in triumph, he clumsily put them on and looked down at the letter again.

_Morning sleepy!_

_Kreacher arrived earlier and was desperate to show me the house – apparently they've finished it already. As you were clearly not going to be joining me, I've gone without you – so don't complain if I get him to paint all the walls pink!_

_Knowing you, you've probably slept in, so hurry downstairs as Mum will have a huge breakfast waiting for you – got to fatten you up, you know!_

_Won't be too long,_

_Love Ginny_

A broad grin stretched over Harry's face at her teasing words and he shook his head in quiet disbelief at his good fortune. Lifting himself to his feet, he snorted in amusement at the idea of Ginny painting anything pink as he looked over the tasteful décor of their room. As his eyes swept over the dresser, he started in amazement. "Where did she get _those_?" he said aloud, quickly crossing to the dresser.

In matching silver frames were two large pictures. One was of Harry and Ginny, clearly taken at Hogwarts last year. In the picture, Harry had a casual arm slung over her shoulders and he kept stealing quick kisses when he thought no-one was looking. Ginny's image rolled her eyes in mock exasperation at his antics, then grabbed him for a full-on snog.

For a moment, Harry thought that she had two copies of the same picture. As he looked more closely at the other photo his breath caught in his throat and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. With an arm also slung casually over the witch at his side, his father's grinning, teenage face smiled up at him, winking slyly. With an achingly familiar look of pretend annoyance, his mother's lovely face beamed at the camera as she waved happily.

A solitary tear worked its way down Harry's cheek as he gently traced a finger over the outline of his mother's happy face. _How did I never notice – that they look so much alike?_ If he needed further confirmation that he had, however unknowingly, made the right choice for a wife, the two photographs gave him all the proof he would ever need.

Wishing that Ginny were there to thank properly, Harry wiped the tear from his face and sighed.

Rousing himself from his momentary reverie, he recalled Ginny's words from the letter and quickly scooped a t-shirt up from the floor. Sniffing it experimentally, he decided it would do for breakfast and, without so much as glancing in the mirror, dashed downstairs, keen to not keep Mrs Weasley waiting any longer.

At Grimmauld Place, the mood was far less reflective and sombre. Tugging her hand eagerly, Kreacher had led Ginny around the whole house, anxious to win her approval of the changes made.

When they had first arrived, Ginny was certain for a moment that the aging elf had taken them to the wrong house. She was just about to gently bring it to Kreacher's attention when she paused, head tipped to one side, and looked again at the hallway. There _was_ something familiar about the shape of the stairs…

Racing down the Weasley's considerably less grand staircase, Harry could hear the familiar sound of happy, animated voices in the kitchen. Hoping that he hadn't delayed breakfast for the others, Harry skidded to a halt in the hall, composed himself and walked casually into the kitchen.

"Morning Weasleys," he called out brightly as he settled into his usual seat at the table. "Hope I haven't kept you waiting?" He looked round at the others. George and Bill were sat opposite, engrossed in wrapping themselves around a large fried breakfast as quickly as possible. "Guess not," Harry muttered wryly.

Ginny sniffed as she followed Kreacher into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. "Is that – bacon I can smell?" she enquired hopefully, her stomach rumbling in anticipation. In her excitement at seeing the house, she had momentarily forgotten about breakfast. Running a hand over her forehead, she was relieved to find it cool._ No, not ill_, she decided. _Ron will never believe me though._

Kreacher's wrinkled face split in a wide smile. "Indeed Mistress – Kreacher knows that breakfast is very important to all Weazeys, even if they are Potters now."

Sitting at the large kitchen table, and running her hands over the freshly polished and restored surface, Ginny grinned in reply. "Well, some traditions should be kept even after marriage – don't you agree?"

Tottering under the weight of an enormous plate full of steaming breakfast, Kreacher nodded enthusiastically as he approached the hungry redhead.

As Mrs Weasley slid a piping hot plate of food in front of him, Harry inhaled the delicious smell of freshly cooked sausage and bacon. _I could definitely get used to this_, he thought, smiling happily. _Beats eating mushrooms in the forest_. For a moment his smile faltered as unhappy memories crowded in, then he shook his head and glanced around contently at the crowded table.

As he hungrily devoured his breakfast, Harry became slowly aware of a subtle change in the atmosphere at the table. He glanced up to see George elbowing Bill and nodding at Harry with a grin on his face. Noting Harry's gaze, George hastily attempted to conceal his nod by rubbing his neck and wincing.

Looking around curiously, Harry frowned lightly as he saw Molly Weasley avoiding his eyes, a faint smile and flush on her face. Arthur Weasley's face was hidden behind a newspaper, but the paper shook slightly, as if the owner were repressing a chuckle.

"Err, what's going on?" Harry asked nervously. Involuntarily, he looked over at George. Grinning back innocently, George replied, "Don't know what you mean Harry – Bill, any ideas?"

Bill snorted, and forced out a weak, "No – no idea," whilst struggling in vain to keep a huge smile off his face.

"I must say though Harry," George continued smoothly. "You are looking very – distinguished today."

At the end of the table, the newspaper shook wildly and a quickly stifled laugh rang out.

"That's right," said Percy, joining in for the first time. "I've always felt that a beard is the crowning glory of a man – don't you, Harry?"

Bill choked on his tea, his face turning purple as he repressed his laughter. Even Mrs Weasley was laughing openly by now.

Mystified, Harry rubbed a hand over his face. He felt the usual light scratch of growth since yesterday. _A beard?_

"Yeah Harry – I moustache you-" George started, but was drowned out by a loud roar of laughter from Bill, who started banging on the table. Alarmed, and with a growing sense of realisation, Harry stood up quickly and bolted for the mirror on the far wall.

Staring back at him with an equally horrified expression, Harry's reflection wore an enormous ink moustache which curled neatly at each end, with a matching goatee beard on his chin.

"Ginny!"

A hundred miles away, Ginny Potter smiled to herself as she took a last bite of breakfast. Glancing over at Kreacher, she saw an identical expression of mischief on his face. "Something tells me Harry has just discovered our little present Kreacher – I think this calls for some more toast, don't you?"

Kreacher nodded, still grinning, and headed for the bread.

It took some time for the Burrow to return to normal, especially after Harry discovered that Ginny had fixed the moustache and beard to his face with a powerful Sticking Charm. Gazing around helplessly, Harry had glared at the wheezing Weasley men, who were rolling around on the floor, giggling weakly. Finally, Molly Weasley, shaking her head but smiling widely had managed to return Harry's face to normal.

With his face still a fetching shade of crimson, Arthur Weasley hastily kissed his wife goodbye, and set off for the Ministry. Molly, scowling, retreated to the kitchen and set about the plates viciously, muttering harshly about working on a Sunday. Catching Harry's eye, Bill jerked his head towards the door enquiringly and Harry nodded, following him quietly outside.

Bathed in the glow of the warm summer sun, Harry exhaled softly, closing his eyes for a moment. Although he had slept fairly well, he felt a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him as he recalled Mr Weasley's harried expression. Slumping onto a nearby log, he gazed unseeingly across the garden as he considered the week ahead.

Mr Weasley had informed them last night that there would be a memorial service at Hogwarts in a few days time, once the building had been made safe. Many relatives had chosen to bury their lost ones on the grounds, and a series of funeral ceremonies had been arranged for after the main service. For the Weasleys, there was only one place to bury Fred's body – right here at the Burrow. "After all, Fred would hate to be stuck in school forever," George had said in a pitiful attempt at humour, his eyes hollow and vacant.

Until then, all Harry had to look forward to was retelling the story of the events of last year to a large audience at Grimmauld Place tomorrow. _Great_, he thought savagely, kicking at a small mound of grass by his feet.

He couldn't help but feel slightly selfish that he had been so happy with Ginny over the last few days, making his plans for the future before everyone else had buried the past. He silently groaned – what must Ginny have thought of him? And yet she had seemed content to go along with him, so it couldn't have been so wrong – could it?

Harry ground the heel of his hand into his forehead, attempting to quell the thumping headache which was slowly but inexorably building in his skull. _Why can't it just be simple? Why-_

"You okay Harry?"

Harry jumped nervously. Bill was much closer than he had realised. He stood in front of Harry, hands jammed into his pockets, looking down at the young wizard with a curious expression on his face. Harry nodded, gulping. He liked Bill a lot – at least when he was sober – but he wasn't sure how the older man viewed him.

Seeming to sense his hesitation, Bill dropped onto the log next to him, bumping his shoulder amiably with his. "Budge over, mate," he said cheerfully. Harry obliged, a sense of gratitude rushing over him. He should have known Bill would understand.

Of all the brothers, Bill reminded Harry the most of Ginny. Quieter than all the others bar Percy, far more laid back than boisterous Charlie, Bill had the calm thoughtfulness and perceptiveness that Harry appreciated so much in Ginny. Recalling Bill's reaction to the disaster of the _Daily_ _Prophet_, Harry grinned ruefully. Evidently, Bill also shared Ginny's fiery temper and passionate nature.

Bill sat for a moment, regarding the Burrow intently, then pulled out his wand and cast a silent spell. Harry watched with interest as a pale, shimmering shield faded into sight. "Are those the Wards protecting the Burrow?" He didn't want to offend Bill, but the shield looked like it had seen better days – it was hazy in places and appeared to have been patched several times.

Bill grunted, frowning at the translucent bubble. He sighed, then stood up and stretched. Turning to Harry, his scarred face broke into a lazy grin, and Harry grinned back – it was that kind of smile. "Fancy helping out with a few repairs?" he enquired, nodding at the shield.

Harry jumped to his feet, eager to learn more about magical Wards. After all, he thought ruefully, it might help to explain how he could break them so easily.

Bill proved to be an excellent teacher – calm and patient. Before long, Harry had mastered a simple Strengthening Charm which soon had the shield fully repaired and humming happily.

Taking a long swig of ice-cold Pumpkin Juice from the pitchers that Mrs Weasley had brought out to them, Bill and Harry stood back and admired their handiwork. "Not bad, eh?" said Bill proudly, and Harry nodded happily in agreement. He gave Bill a sidelong glance – he was fairly sure that Bill had roped him in to snap him out of his brooding. _Just like Ginny_, he thought, and smiled. Thinking of Ginny reminded him, and he said curiously, "Bill, why don't you use the Fidelious Charm here, like at Grimmauld Place?"

Bill pulled a face. "Never liked them myself – they're so complicated and fiddly – all that waiting around for the Secret Keeper to arrive and tell you where to go used to drive me mad." Picking up the empty tray, he walked back towards the house, Harry following slowly still holding his pitcher. As they passed through the Ward, Bill paused by the door, looking upwards at the curving shield extending over their heads.

"I tried a Fidelious once, on a small flat I had over Diagon Alley. One day, I was waiting with Charlie for Dad to arrive and reveal the secret. Of course, he was delayed, so in the end I just grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled him inside. Broke the Charm, but I just couldn't-"

There was a sudden crash as the pitcher of Pumpkin Juice smashed onto the floor, slipping from Harry's nerveless grip. Dazedly, he watched the puddle spread over the path, Bill's words reverberating inside his head.

_I just grabbed Charlie by the arm…._

Images flickered in front of his eyes – Hermione escaping from the Ministry, the Death Eater Yaxley reaching out to catch her arm.

…_hauled him inside._

The three of them Disapperating to Grimmauld Place and dragging Yaxley with them…

From miles away, someone was shaking him, fingers pressing into his shoulders. Staring vacantly at Bill's worried face, Harry felt the blood drain from his face as the pieces fell into place.

_Broke the Charm…_

Ginny.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 – The calm before

_An hour earlier…_

Ginny Potter sighed in contentment as she crunched the last piece of toast happily, settling herself comfortably into the solid oak chair. She wriggled slightly, drawing up her legs and tucking them under her. It had taken some doing, but she finally felt like she couldn't eat another morsel. Kreacher, whose look of growing incredulity had turned to concern as his food stocks were decimated, breathed out an audible sigh of relief.

Ginny's lips quirked up in a sardonic smile. "Worried I would be too much for you, Kreacher?" she teased lightly. Kreacher shot her a look which spoke volumes and shook his head silently in amazement, smiling tentatively in return. Watching him carefully as he trotted round the kitchen, plates zooming through the air and food storing itself away, Ginny noted that Kreacher looked – younger. His face was less wrinkled and lined, and he had a noticeable spring in his stride. Not wanting to upset him again, Ginny thought carefully before speaking.

"Kreacher?" The house-elf turned, half-eager, half-fearful. "_More_ food, Mistress?"

Ginny giggled, then became serious again. Meeting her piercing gaze, Kreacher looked away bashfully, shoulders slightly hunched as if expecting a blow. Ginny's warm heart melted. "Kreacher, I just want to ask you a question – do you mind?"

The elderly elf gazed up worshipfully at his Mistress. Except for Master, no-one had _ever_ asked Kreacher if he _minded_ answering a question. He frowned as he recalled shadowy memories of hard voices and even harder fists. Not that anyone had ever taken much interest in Kreacher anyway, he thought darkly – then made a mental note to scald his ears later for his disloyalty. Panic-stricken, he realised that he had not answered his Mistress immediately – what must she think? Quivering from head to foot and blushing furiously, he stammered out, "Of c-course, M-Mistress. Whatever you w-wish."

Staring at his Mistresses' glorious face in abject adoration, Kreacher waited with bated breath, willing her to bless his ugly ears with the gift of her precious musical voice. Breathless with anticipation, he strained his hearing to pick up the faint intake of breath that signalled speech.

Looking in alarm at Kreacher's fixed expression, and his reddening face, Ginny hurriedly cried out, "Breathe, Kreacher, breathe!" With an explosive gasp, Kreacher obeyed, his face glowing even more brightly than before. Enormously thankful that Harry wasn't around to witness this blatant display of elf-worship, Ginny slipped from her chair and crouched down in front of the nervous house-elf. Careful not to follow her instinct to reach out and comfort him, she spoke quietly and calmly.

"Kreacher – I've been noticing this morning that you look – different to when I last saw you here." Kreacher's face fell, and he looked in dismay at the neatly pressed pillowcase that Harry had given him several months ago, and which he treasured above all of his possessions.

"No – I didn't mean that," Ginny added hastily as his lip quivered slightly. "I meant – better. Younger, somehow." Kreacher's face brightened, and he nodded slowly, clearly pleased that she had noticed. Curious, Ginny pressed on.

"Well – I mean – how is that possible?"

Kreacher smiled warmly, his wizened face transformed by the expression. "Mistress is wise, yes, but does not know the ways of house-elves. This is old elvish magic, Mistress, and we do not often speak of it."

Reddening, Ginny felt as if she had thoughtlessly trampled on Kreacher's privacy. "I'm sorry, Kreacher," she blurted out quickly. "I didn't mean to – intrude."

Kreacher laughed out loud, a startlingly deep and mellow sound which echoed around the high-ceilinged room. It was an infectious sound, and Ginny found herself smiling broadly in response.

Eyes shining with happiness, Kreacher spoke eagerly. "Mistress does not intrude, no! It is _because_ of Master and Mistress that Kreacher is feeling young again."

The house-elf looked at Ginny expectantly, and Ginny blushed again. _Why didn't I ever read Hogwarts: A History?_ She smiled to herself. Oh yeah – cause it's_ boring_. Her smile broadened as she recalled that the Weasley family copy was currently being used as a prop to keep the chicken coop level. Better not like Hermione see _that._

"I'm sorry, Kreacher – I still don't understand. What do we have to do with you growing younger?"

Kreacher didn't seem to mind Ginny's ignorance – in fact, if his expression was any guide, he seemed to be scaling new heights of Ginny worship. "Mistress," he said softly, voice trembling with barely controlled emotion. "A house-elf's appearance reflects the emotions of those he serves. When Master brought Mistress to meet Kreacher, it brought new life to these miserable old bones."

His enormous eyes filled with tears, taking on an awe-struck expression. "Kreacher felt – _love_, Mistress. Between Master and Mistress – _love._" He looked down at his suddenly smooth hands, turning them over in wonder.

"And now Kreacher is becoming young again!"

Casting her inhibitions to one side, Ginny impulsively swept Kreacher into a tight Weasley hug, eyes burning with joy for the love she felt for Harry, and now shared with the old house-elf too.

By the time that Kreacher had composed himself, blowing his large nose loudly on a corner of his now crumpled pillowcase, Ginny was eager to take a second look around her new home. The first impression she had, based on her hurried tour of the ground floor, was of light and airiness – a far cry from the gloomy house of old. As per her instructions, the house-elves had painted all the walls white, to give her and Harry a blank canvas on which to create the perfect home.

Ginny's face reddened as she realised that she had actually thought 'the perfect _family_ home'. Tugging at the neck of Harry's old Christmas jumper – another victim of their sharing a trunk – Ginny was suddenly certain that Kreacher had been turning up the heat in the last few moments. Her heart was pounding and her mouth felt dry as the thought of creating a _baby_ with Harry occurred to her for the first time. Since their passionate kiss on the night of painful truths, Ginny could not deny the desire she felt for Harry in a physical sense, but a _family_ – that was another level entirely.

Sensing Kreacher's concerned gaze, Ginny put the intoxicating, terrifying thought to one side. _Hold your horses Ginevra_, she told herself firmly. _You aren't even seventeen yet – lots to do before __that__._ Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as her mind wandered over the vision of Harry, shirtless, in their bathroom. _Lots to do_, she thought – then blushed at the brazenness of her desires.

Grabbing a piece of parchment, she thrust it into Kreacher's hands and strode off purposefully, determined to keep her mind on more appropriate thoughts for a well-brought-up Underage witch.

Sweeping imperiously past the large window looking out onto Grimmauld Place, she was far too distracted to notice the strange man, dressed in a curious mixture of Muggle clothes and holding a hammer upside down, who was pretending to carry out repairs to the lamppost outside. She was long gone when the man, who had started violently in recognition, pulled back his arm and pressed a shaking finger to a sinister tattoo, closing his eyes as if communicating with an unseen acquaintance.

By the time that they had finally reached the top floor of the house, Kreacher was lagging behind, despite his new-found youthfulness. Fired with a burning enthusiasm, Ginny clambered up the stairs, visions of soft furnishings and warm fabrics dancing before her eyes. Wearily dragging the six-feet long parchment behind him, Kreacher scribbled furiously, grimly trying to keep up with Ginny's insatiable demands.

"And here, Kreacher, we'll put the small table from my room, and over here, this wall will be painted in cream, no – brown, no – cream…"

Sighing, Kreacher crossed through the last line, dutifully copying down Ginny's wishlist. Racing nimbly up the final flight of stairs, Ginny swung open the door, peering into the dark space behind. The attic room beyond was cold and slightly damp, and Ginny shivered, rubbing her arms for warmth. Dimly outlined in the half-light, she could make out piles of boxes and oddly shaped ornaments – the last remaining original items of furniture.

Closing the door with a bang, she skipped past Kreacher, who had just laboriously made his way to her side, dancing down the flight of stairs and shooting off down the hallway on the top floor. Kreacher let out a barely audible groan, turning slowly and following behind, glancing out of the window onto the street below.

Too tired to pay much attention, his gaze swept over the four workmen clustered around the lamppost who appeared to be having an intense discussion about their work. Hurrying to catch up with Ginny, who was already calling out more instructions, he turned from the window just before the workmen broke up from their huddle, turning to face the house and simultaneously reaching for something in their pockets.

By the time that Kreacher reached Ginny, she was stood silently in a small, cosy room near the master bedroom. The small, low window looked down onto the back garden and an ancient rocking chair was placed towards it. Sinking into the chair, Ginny almost unconsciously began rocking back and forth, a faint, warm smile playing about the corners of her mouth. Lost in reverie, her face softened into a tender, dreamy expression as she glanced down at her lap. Starting in sudden realisation, Ginny let out a soft cry and her face burned with heat. Kreacher, feeling alarmed, rushed to her side.

"Is Mistress feeling well? Can Kreacher bring her a nice drink to cool down?"

If anything, Ginny's face burned brighter, and she cleared her throat nervously "Y-Yes Kreacher – that would be lovely," she stammered, one hand twisting in her hair. Nodding silently, Kreacher turned, and clicked his fingers to Disapperate down to the kitchen.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, Kreacher clicked his fingers harder as his face furrowed with concentration.

Still nothing.

Frown deepening, Kreacher made a sweeping gesture with his hand at the open door. The door remained stubbornly still, and a look of growing panic crossed Kreacher's wrinkled face.

"Mistress?" he whispered faintly. Lost in thought, Ginny absently replied, "Hmm?" without looking up.

Crossing towards her, Kreacher reached out tentatively and gently shook her arm. "Mistress?" he repeated, more urgently this time.

Looking down, Ginny's face hardened as she took in the house-elf's fearful expression. "Kreacher – what's wrong?" she replied, her voice a matching whisper to his.

"My magic, Mistress. It has been…" he gulped, his eyes wide with trepidation. "It has been – Bound."

Ginny's face paled. Stumbling to her feet, she jerkily pulled out her wand with trembling fingers. "_Lumos_", she whispered, eyes fixed on the tip of her wand. Willing it to light with every fibre of her being, she repeated the incantation more loudly.

"_Lumos. Lumos. Lu-"_

A violent tremor shook through her slight frame as a terrible realisation dawned upon her.

She was completely powerless.

She was utterly alone.

She was under attack.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 – Tempest

As the blinding flash of light slowly subsided, Bill Weasley's eyelids fluttered open. As his vision swum into focus, his bleary gaze settled on an azure sky, flecked with small clouds scudding merrily along. _Fluffy_, he thought woozily. _Quite pretty really – how nice, so-_

Bill's head shot up as another blinding flash of light blotted out his vision. This time he could make out the icy green glow of magical energy emanating from it, and he looked at the source, his mind gradually clearing.

A few feet away from his prone body, he saw a pair of scruffy trainers, muddy and worn. Looking upwards, he saw baggy jeans, somewhat too large for the person wearing them, a dirty-looking t-shirt, and…

"Harry!" As the name exploded out of his mouth, the memories came rushing back. Talking at the Burrow. Repairing the wards. He frowned in concentration. Something about wards – no, charms. The Fidelious Charm. The time he broke one with Charlie.

Harry's face. Ginny.

In one convulsive movement, with a monumental effort of will, Bill forced himself up onto his hands and knees, head swimming. Shaking his head as if to clear it of Nargles, he forced himself to sit upright, resting his body unsteadily back on his heels. His ears were filled with a whistling sound, and he watched distantly as Harry shot another incandescent beam of energy towards something, face contorted with emotion.

Clumsily patting his pockets as if drunk, Bill managed to find his wand and hauled it out. Pointing it towards himself, he mumbled "_Clarificus",_ and his head cleared, vision and memory becoming crystal clear with horrifying force. Lurching to his feet, he spun to face Harry, face drained of blood.

"Where are we? What's happened?"

Ignoring him, Harry fired off another silent spell, even more powerful than the previous one. As it shot past Bill, the hairs on his arm tingled from the enormous amount of energy contained in it. Wheeling round, he saw it slam into an invisible barrier and dissipate harmlessly across its surface.

As Bill took in the building behind the shield, his jaw sagged and the final pieces clicked into place with an almost audible clunk. Grimmauld Place. Broken Fidelious. Ginny.

A low growl shattered his thoughts, and Bill suddenly found himself yanked round, iron fingers digging into his shoulder painfully. Harry's face filled his vision – but this was no Harry Bill had ever seen before. His eyes were narrow and blazing, impossible to look into, a savage, animalistic fire burning deep within. His jaw was set, thin lips drawn back into a feral, snarling expression.

"How do I break this – tell me!"

Harry's voice throbbed with anger and menace, but his tone was broken and filled with a desperate pleading. He shook Bill roughly, pointing a shaking arm towards the house. "How?"

Bill tore his transfixed gaze away from Harry, and switched abruptly into professional mode. Silently casting the Revealing Charm at the shield, he sucked in a ragged breath as it flared into existence. The shield pulsated with deep red bands of energy, criss-crossing the perfectly black surface.

"It can't be – it can't…" Bill's voice trailed off into a disbelieving whisper. Turning to Harry, he ran a shaking hand over his face. Harry let out another low growl, and Bill hurried to speak, stumbling over his words in shock.

"It's – it's impossible Harry. D-Dark magic I've only ever heard rumours of. They call it an Exclusion Field. Powered by a Dark talisman – an amulet or crystal – it inhibits all magical activity within unless you know the counter charm."

Bill's face became, if possible, even more pale as he considered his little sister trapped inside with Dark wizards. "That's n-not the worst part though, Harry." He forced himself to meet Harry's fierce gaze, his hand trembling as he shrank inside from the overwhelming rage he saw in the younger wizard's eyes.

"It's supposed to be impervious. It cannot be broken from the outside by any magical attack."

The fire in Harry's eyes flicked and was extinguished in an instant, to be replaced by a look of such tearing desolation it took Bill's breath away.

"Y-you m-m-mean-"

"She's on her own Harry. Our Ginny is in there with _them_ – alone."

Crouched in darkness, Ginny's breath came in ragged gasps as her mind whirled, contemplating her situation. Far below, she could hear thuds and crashes as unknown enemies methodically searched through the house, clearly looking for her.

Her trembling hands were gripping the handle of the attic door so tightly that her fingers began to ache with the strain. Forcing herself to loosen her grasp, she pulled her hands away, wrapping her arms around her body as she rocked back and forth. _They were coming for her – they knew she was in the house. And they wouldn't stop until they found her_.

Pushing herself backwards, a low sob bubbled up her throat, and was quickly stifled. Huddled on the floor, she began rocking again, back and forth while her mind raced over the options. Oddly, the rhythmic motion calmed her slightly, and her thoughts began to fall back into more regular, coherent patterns.

They had all the advantages. Magic. Numbers. Strength. What did she have? Speed? Stealth? Her racing mind suddenly halted. Insider information.

"Kreacher!" she exclaimed, the word bursting forth much more loudly than she had anticipated. Below her, the crashing paused and she held her breath, relaxing as it started up again.

"Yes Mistress?" Kreacher's low whisper was barely audible from his position near the door. Ginny gestured for him to come over to her, placing one finger on her lips to emphasise the need for silence. Kreacher nodded solemnly, picking his way across the cluttered floor with exaggerated care.

Ginny felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her, and quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. _What was wrong with her? If only Harry could see her now-_

Her eyes widened. Harry. Surely he would be worried about her soon? She glanced at her watch. It was nearly twelve – she had been gone all morning. Even if he had slept in, he would be wondering where she was. It would only take one call – one quick Apperation, and – and he would be in even worse trouble than her.

She shook her head fiercely. The last thing she wanted was Harry arriving in the midst of a pack of Death Eaters – if her suspicions were correct. No, this fight was down to her. She glanced down at the quivering house-elf who was edging closer to her side, drawing some measure of comfort from her presence. Her jaw set, and she cast aside her fear with a lingering sense of shame at her cowardice.

_Are you, or are you not, Harry Potter's wife_, she told herself reproachfully. _Time to start acting like it._ Turning to Kreacher, she fixed him with an intense expression, tying her hair back and rising to her feet.

"Kreacher – it's time to clean house. We've got some rubbish that needs taking out."

Harry stood by, idly watching the young man crumpled on the road, and wondered what _his _problem was. He looked up and down the road, noticing nothing more out of the ordinary than a cat sunning itself on a clear summer afternoon. What was with this guy?

As he appeared to be at a loose end, he strolled nearer, gazing curiously at the man's face. He _was _young – no more than eighteen, with messy dark hair. Thrown carelessly to one side were a pair of old-fashioned round glasses, the lenses cracked and the frame bent. Harry crouched down, both fascinated and annoyed, to try to get a better look at the man's face. All he could see were his hands, which were torn and bloodied. _He looks as if he's been punching a brick wall_, Harry mused. The man's shoulders shook, his thin body convulsing with some strong emotion, and Harry rubbed his forehead, feeling a distant pounding sensation – as if he knew what bothered the man.

Harry jumped as another, older man ran back into view from an alleyway between the houses. His chest was heaving, and he looked as if he had just run a marathon. Harry started – he knew this man. He was tall, with long red hair, and his face was badly marked with scars. Somehow, Harry knew these scars were the result of being attacked by someone – or something.

The pounding in his head increased, accompanied now by a far off, high-pitched screaming which Harry tried to drown out. The scarred man's name – what was it? He shook his head, but quickly stilled the motion as it throbbed painfully, the screaming sound becoming louder and – closer.

Harry felt a rising tide of panic. He didn't need to know the man's name – he didn't _want_ to know. It was a glorious, carefree day, and he should really be on his way to – to where, exactly?

The scarred man had his arm around the younger man's shoulders, and appeared to be talking urgently, imploringly, his lips moving, but no audible sound coming out. Harry felt a sudden compulsion to get away from this man – whatever his name was – and turned to run. He managed only a few tottering steps when the realisation hit him.

The man's name was Bill. Bill Weasley. Harry collapsed to his knees, white-hot agony coursing through his head as a series of sledgehammer blows crashed through his mind. Bill had four brothers, and – one sister. Ginny.

The screaming sound in his mind became louder, and Harry was dimly aware that it wasn't just in his head, but he could _hear_ it as well. He felt the comforting pressure of an arm around his shoulders and knew that _he_ was the young man collapsed in the road, that Bill had been talking to him. He felt his body shaking with grief and realized that the screaming was coming from him. With a tremendous effort, he forced his mouth closed. The screaming cut off, to be replaced with a low keening.

Drawing up his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them, rocking to and fro in his distress. His mind was a whirling kaleidoscope of images, each more horrific than the one before. Ginny's face contorted with fear. Death Eaters looming over her. Blood trickling from her mouth. A flash of green light-

"No!"

Bill flinched back from the hoarse shout, shrinking back as Harry lurched to his feet, swaying unsteadily. His head was swimming, eyes red-rimmed and burning with tears, but his face was set and implacable. _No. Not Ginny. Not ever._

The temperature outside Grimmauld Place plummeted as an icy wind whipped across Harry's face, even though the distant sky remained bright and sunny. Bill shivered, rubbing his arms for warmth, his eyes wide and fixed on Harry's as the wind swirled and howled around him, rapidly gaining in speed and power.

Ginny felt the old house shuddering as a blast of wind hit it with devastating force. She jumped as several panes of glass cracked suddenly, and plaster trickled onto her head from fresh cracks in the bowed ceiling. _What on earth?_ She didn't have long to ponder the vagaries of the weather as another bright-red bolt of energy shot over her head, narrowly missing her. She felt Kreacher tugging at her sleeve, anxious to move on.

"Time to go, Mistress," he whispered in her ear. Ginny almost giggled as his long nose tickled her face – almost. She shook her head decisively. "Not yet. If I can just throw this one-" She grunted with effort as she hurled the large vase across the open landing, then ducked down, covering her ears.

She had just enough time to wonder if it hadn't worked when an earth-shattering explosion punched her in the stomach, hurling her back against the wall. Ears ringing, she turned to Kreacher, eyes wide with glee. "It worked!" Whirling round again, she strained to see through the thick dust, choking as it swirled past them.

For a moment, there was silence, then the shuddering cries of a man in agony erupted through the dusty air. The cries trailed off into a series of low moans, then there was silence. Grimly, Ginny looked down at the loyal house elf, rivulets of sweat cutting a path down her grimy face.

"That makes three."

The noise of the explosion was inaudible outside Grimmauld Place, easily masked by the shrieking wind that was spiralling round Harry and Bill. Mouth open, Bill craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the blue sky barely visible at the mouth of the funnel of churning wind which now surrounded them.

"Harry!" The word was whipped out of his mouth and lost to the swirling wind. Bracing himself against the force of the wind, Bill managed to get near enough to Harry to shake him on the shoulder. "Harry!" he roared, desperate to get Harry's attention.

Harry's head turned toward him, and Bill shrank back in terror.

When he had been a small boy, a distant uncle had scared him stiff with tales of the Unforgiven - desperate ghouls who roamed the land searching for revenge. He still remembered being transfixed by the description of their unearthly, dead eyes – eyes which held no trace of humanity and no hope of redemption.

Harry's eyes were worse.

The normal piercing green had turned to an icy blackness, ringed with swirls of golden fire. His face looked like something from one of Bill's childish nightmares – inhuman, uncaring and unbearable to look upon. The howling of the wind instantly ceased, even though the wind swirled even more fiercely than before.

"Harry – w-what have you d-done?" Bill's teeth chattered with fear as he gazed helplessly into the younger wizard's deadly gaze. When Harry replied, his voice was barely recognisable. Each low, guttural syllable echoed with energy, and Bill felt something withering inside him as he unwillingly listened.

"They told me to keep it under control Bill. The Dursleys. My teachers." His mouth curled in a mirthless smile that shook Bill to the core. "Even Dumbledore kept me – caged."

The gale whipped into a frenzy, lightning arcing around them in ever brighter streaks. Harry stood motionless at the centre of the chaos, face pale and gaunt, while Bill cringed away from the searing magical heat emanating from him. Harry regarded his fearful face, and his eyes softened. The wind slowed slightly, and the familiar green-eyed gaze returned.

"You don't need to fear me Bill. None of you do." His eyes shifted to the house and ice began to crust over the windows and door. Looking back at Bill, his eyes were bottomless pits.

"But _they_ do."

Bill gulped, feeling profoundly grateful that he was fighting with Harry and not against him. "Harry," he whispered. "What are you going to do?"

The swirling vortex picked up speed again, shot through with bolts of dazzling green lightning. His dark hair obscuring his features, Harry fixed his eyes on Bill for the final time. "First I'm going through this Exclusion Field."

The word _impervious_ faltered and perished on Bill's lips. He nodded dumbly, unable to contradict this new, terrifying Harry. Seemingly aware of Bill's hesitation, Harry cocked his head, a faint smile flickering over his lips before melting into icy hardness.

"Then I'm going in there, and _they_ won't be coming out." His gaze bore into the house, as if he could see the foolish wizards who had dared to threaten Ginny's life.

"Not alive, anyway."

Frantically rifling through the remaining contents of the attic room, Ginny searched feverishly for something – anything – to fight back the advancing Death Eaters. Once they had discovered that magical artefacts already in the house still retained their power, they had quickly halted the Dark wizards' advance. The last of the Venezuelan Blasting Powder was gone now, and all Ginny had left were three rather lethargic Doxies Kreacher had unearthed in an old curtain.

There was a loud thump below as Kreacher heaved a large chest of drawers down the stairs. Ginny smiled humourlessly as she heard a sharp exclamation from the Death Eaters. Her smile faded as a loud crash and a flash of light indicated that they had merely blasted the furniture apart.

Tipping over a large box stored in the corner, Ginny smiled widely when she saw the contents. It appeared that Fred and George had hidden some of their more experimental products away from their mother's sharp eyes. Her eyes shifted from the four Wildfire Whizz-bang fireworks on the floor to the sleepy-looking Doxies and her grin became feral.

Striding determinedly towards the wary-looking creatures, Ginny staggered as the house was rocked by a sudden wave of magic. Steadying herself, she gasped as cracks opened up in the walls and the over-burdened building groaned ominously. Just what exactly was going on?

Harry watched with a grim satisfaction as his magic expanded rapidly outwards, washing over the Exclusion Field and rocking the house to its foundations. The shield held and he saw Bill sag with disappointment. His lip curled in a wild grin. Little did Bill realise – that was just the last of his magical restraints failing. He was filled with a wild exultation as the raw simmering energy within him roiled and writhed, free at last. Deep in the corner of his mind, part of him recoiled at the unspeakable power he now held within him. _This must be how Voldemort felt_, he thought and for a moment he felt his magic falter.

Then a bright image of Ginny, eyes alight with life, teasing him gently, overwhelmed his senses and he gasped aloud at the joy of it. Voldemort could never have felt like that, he realised and his pool of magic spread further. Feeling the energy drain out of him, he poured it into his magic until it felt ready to explode. Hesitating for a moment, he focused his mind on drilling through the barrier that separated him from Ginny. With a flicking gesture of his hand, he summoned the magic back.

Racing back towards him, the magic flared with power, filling his veins to overflowing. His heart sang with exhilaration, his senses swam dizzyingly and he had just enough self-control to motion Bill away before the last of the magic re-entered him.

Eyes flashing from obsidian black to ice-cold lambent green in an instant, Harry gratefully let loose the torrent of magic, honing it into an unstoppable beam of pure power that smashed into the shield with devastating force.

Bill was thrown to the ground, gasping, as the Exclusion Field flared into view. The deep red bands of energy pulsated wildly, ensnared by a multitude of bright green threads which twisted and choked them. A whining sound grew louder and more piercing as the Field was overloaded by Harry's raw magic. The Field flickered and vanished, the wind abruptly stopped and the sky was clear blue once more.

Raising himself up on one elbow, Bill had started to ask "Is that-" when a howling torrent of energy exploded with shattering force. Ripping itself into a thousand tiny pieces, the Exclusion Field burst open, smashing all the windows along the full length of Grimmauld Place.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place sagged dangerously, listing noticeably to one side, as did Harry. Bill got cautiously to his feet and crossed to him, supporting his weight under one arm. For a moment, Harry leaned heavily on his brother in law, clearly exhausted. Then, slowly and painfully, he pulled himself upright, gathering his magic once more around him like a cloak.

Bill watched uneasily as Harry took one staggering step forward, his face chalky white. He wanted, but dared not, to tell Harry he couldn't keep pushing himself like this. One look at Harry's burning look of determination silenced him, however. This was about Harry, Ginny and those foolish enough to stand between them.

Taking another slow step, followed by a quicker one, Harry picked up his pace until he was running, flat out, towards the door of Grimmauld Place. The master was about to return home.

Shaking her head to clear it, Ginny rose to her feet, unsure of what had just happened. Judging from the confused shouts downstairs, the Death Eaters were no wiser than her. Straightening up, Ginny frowned as a light tickling sensation washed over her. It felt familiar, just like it felt when-

Whipping out her wand, she formed the word in her mind and gasped in relief as the tip of the wand glowed brightly. Her magic was back.

Racing to the attic door, she flung it open to see Kreacher running up the stairs to meet her. Elf and witch gazed at each other in excitement for a moment, then said simultaneously, "You too?" Laughing, Ginny gestured for Kreacher to come back into the attic room, intending to quickly make their escape.

Kreacher shook his head, face darkening. "Mistress should stay here," he growled angrily. "Kreacher will rid the noble House of Potter from the stain of Dark magic." As Ginny started for the door, he slammed it shut, sealing it with a bright glow.

Banging on the door futilely, Ginny cried out for Kreacher, but heard only his footsteps dying away. For a moment she stood still, shocked that Kreacher had disobeyed her command. Looking down at the floor, she caught sight of her left hand and laughed incredulously. _Are you a witch or not, Ginny?_

"Reducto!"

Leaping over the broken splinters of wood, she raced down the stairs after Kreacher, heart pounding. _Hold on, Kreacher_, she thought frantically. _Hold on._

Time slowed to a crawl as she rounded the top of the last flight of stairs. Eyes widening, she took in the scene in the hallway even as she desperately tried to force her limbs to move through the treacly air.

Kreacher, back straight, facing down four black-cloaked figures, their faces obscured by masks.

A tall figure stood in front, lifting his head back in a high-pitched giggle as his wand hand shot out, pointing directly at Ginny's face.

Crying out in fear, Ginny skidded to a halt as Kreacher's head whipped round, eyes bulging as he took in his Mistresses' look of desperation.

"_Avada_-"

Ginny braced herself for the end. _Harry_, she thought. _I love you. I'm s-_

A small thin figure barrelled into her, pushing her downwards. Ginny's knees buckled as she fell under Kreacher's surprising weight.

"-_Kedavra_."

The last thing that Ginny Potter saw was the bright green light flaring as the spell hit Kreacher's defenceless back, ripping through his tiny body with ease. Then there was an agonizing bolt of pain, and she knew no more.

Her lifeless body tumbled down the final stairs just as the front door exploded into tiny shards of wood and a tall, lean figure stood, outlined by a shimmering wave of power. Harry had arrived just a second too late.

Time slowed to a crawl as Harry watched his vital, vivacious wife crumple to the ground. Dimly, he was aware of his body rocking with the impact of powerful spells, but that was inconsequential and easily ignored. He took a slow, lurching step towards Ginny, intending to catch her even as he knew it was too late. She was gone.

"No!" Bill's wild, hoarse cry snapped Harry out of his reverie and he glanced around in time to throw his arms around the older man and prevent his headlong dash. Turning his back towards the Death Eaters, he pulled Bill close to his chest, shielding him from the worst of the spells being hurled at them. A last, small fragment of rationality whispered to him that it was unwise to turn his back on enemies, but a larger, more primal voice snarled back that he _would_ protect Bill – for _her_ sake.

Bill was gasping incoherently, struggling to free himself, but Harry clung on grimly, unable to speak or think, just act. A volley of Blasting Hexes slammed into his lower back, opening up new wounds to add to the scar collection, but he didn't feel it – couldn't feel it.

And then he heard it.

The first time, he dismissed it as a figment of his grief-stricken mind. Then it came again. _Harry._

He frowned, his grip loosening in his distraction and Bill took advantage of it to rip himself free and charge, snarling, at the Death Eaters. A flaming purple bolt of lightning erupted from Bill's wand, punching a ragged hole straight through a Death Eater's chest and killing him instantly. The remaining three fell back from his onslaught, but Harry saw the leader compose himself and brandish his wand to deliver the fatal curse.

"Stop!"

As Harry's calm voice echoed through the room, the Death Eaters froze. Literally. Racing out from Harry, the floor cracked and heaved as it turned to ice, reaching out towards the Death Eaters, who cried out in fear and attempted to Apperate away. Mentally reaching out, Harry grunted with effort as he arrested their escape, reeling them back in with brute magical force.

As soon as they flickered back into existence, their feet touching the ground, the ice had them in its embrace. Their bodies froze and hardened, locked into their final attitude of desperation, their faces paling and becoming rigid. All this happened in an instant. One moment, there were three live Death Eaters in the hallway, the next they were replaced with three highly realistic statues.

Harry slumped over, gasping for breath. There was a dizzy, intoxicating feeling sweeping over him – an urge to lie down and sleep. He was about to give into the seductive sensation when he heard it again.

_Harry – don't give up._

This time he recognised the voice in his head. Ginny.

"Harry – come here!" Bill's voice cracked with emotion as he knelt over Ginny's body. Launching himself towards them, Harry skidded to a halt on his knees beside Bill, looking down into Ginny's lovely, lifeless face. For a moment, Harry felt something fundamentally important crack deep within his mind, a weakening of something which ought to never be weakened, until he followed Bill's pointing hand. Hope flared within him. Ginny's chest was slowly, but unmistakably, rising and falling in an irregular movement.

Harry stared incredulously before understanding kicked in. "Kreacher," he breathed reverentially. "He protected her from the worst of it," he hurriedly explained to Bill, gesturing towards Kreacher's prone form. Tears formed in his eyes as he glanced at the tiny, lifeless body of another loyal house elf who died to protect those he loved – but there wasn't any time for that.

Bill was casting some kind of medical spell over Ginny, and the results were evidently not promising, judging from his expression. "She's fading fast," he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. Harry felt another crack within his mind, and knew that he couldn't survive losing Ginny, regardless of the cost.

His mind cleared. With a sudden clarity, he knew what he had to do.

"Bill – you have to leave. Now." His voice was flat and brooked no denial, but Bill glared at him mutinously, defiant. Harry sighed. _Typical Weasley_, he thought. _Stubborn as hell._ "I'm sorry Bill – there is no other way." Bill stared at him in confusion for a second, then his eyes widened in understanding as Harry waved a hand and Bill was forcibly Apperated away.

Slumping over Ginny, Harry succumbed for a moment to the terrible feeling of exhaustion that washed over him – a feeling that went well beyond the physical. He had built up and expended too much energy far too quickly, and every First Year at Hogwarts knew the consequences of _that_. He didn't care. All that mattered was Ginny.

Tenderly, he cradled her body in his arms, brushing back a stray lock of hair so that he could gaze into her pale face. "Ginny," he whispered, and waited for the response.

_Harry? Where are you, Harry?_

A stray tear worked its way, unnoticed, down Harry's cheek. He closed his eyes, focusing on the magic that still raged, uncontained, within him. It answered greedily to his command, anxious to be free, and Harry felt it wash over him, reaching out to the precious body he still held in his arms.

"I'm coming for you sweetheart," he murmured softly. "I'll always come for you." His arms tightened around Ginny as the magic within him reached a crescendo and all consciousness faded away as he was enveloped in a blinding white light.

Groaning, Bill lifted his head off the pavement, looking around groggily. _Not here again_, he thought savagely. Once more, he had been unceremoniously dumped on the road outside Grimmauld Place – and once more, Harry was responsible.

"Harry, I'm going to wear your gizzards as a scarf," he grumbled as he heavily got to his feet. If Harry thought that he was going to stay out of whatever hare-brained scheme he had cooked up, he could just think again. No one got between the Weasley brothers and their little sister. Not Voldemort, and certainly not Harry Potter.

Face set in a determined mask, Bill marched painfully towards the door of Harry's house, intent on helping in whatever way he could. At first, the shattered hole where the doorway had been resisted his passing, and Bill recognised Harry's magical signature. Then, suddenly, the invisible barrier fell backwards, as if it were being sucked in, and Bill stumbled over the threshold. _Hi honey, I'm home_, he thought crazily – then froze.

Where Harry and Ginny had been, there was a pulsating ball of blazing white energy, glowing brighter with each passing second. Dimly within it, Bill could just make out the outline of two people. Bill's long hair began to prickle and stand on end as the energy ball quickly gained in intensity and he noted with alarm the long cracks creeping up the walls of the already battered house. This old place was not going to hold up much longer.

Bill gasped as the ball of energy shimmered once, then vanished, leaving an eerie calm behind. As his eyes recovered from the dazzling light, Bill squinted and could make out Harry, half-collapsed across Ginny, his face white and motionless. Ginny – Bill's breath caught in his chest – was stirring, colour flooding back into her cheeks as her eyes flickered open.

Harry let out a long, shuddering gasp and his body slumped, head resting on Ginny's lap. His mouth parted, and a tiny, incandescent fleck of energy floated out. Bill gasped in horror, unable to move. He had seen this several times during the war, when the Dementors had administered their horrific so-called Kiss, but never voluntarily.

Harry was giving up his soul.

The minute glowing ball hovered over Ginny, who frowned in confusion as her eyes focused on it. Bill, watching with a terrible fascination, saw her arm shift, hand reaching out and fingers closing over the ball. Pulling her arm back, she settled her clenched fist over her heart as her other hand cradled Harry's head. "H-Harry," she croaked, then her head fell backwards.

Bill wasn't sure how long he had stood, unable to move as the tears streamed silently down his bloody, bruised face. The last, greatest hero of the Wizarding War – the boy who had given everything – had just given the one thing that remained – his soul – to save the woman he loved.

An ear-splitting crack pulled Bill away from his bittersweet thoughts as the building shook and crumbled around him. Large chunks of wall and ceiling began crashing down around him, and Bill, dodging them narrowly, dashed towards Ginny and Harry. Covering their bodies with his own, Bill narrowed his focus to a single point and Apperated them away as, with a colossal roar, Number 12 Grimmauld Place succumbed to the inevitable, and collapsed.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 – Waking Dream

_The wind whipped Ginny's hair into long flaming ribbons as she nosed the broomstick downwards, urging it to pick up speed more quickly. Dimly visible against the dark grass below the tiny flicker darted away, rapidly escaping…_

Still huddled on top of Harry and Ginny's silent forms, Bill Weasley's anguished cry shattered the calm peace of St Mungo's. "Help me – I need help here!" His heart thudded relentlessly in his throat, and the tears slipped down his bloodied face as he cradled their bodies in his arms. "For the love of God, help me – anyone!" His hitching, sobbing voice rendered the last words almost unintelligible as he rocked Harry and Ginny back and forth in desperation, willing them to hold on…

_Skimming so low over the ground that her knees parted the blades of grass, Ginny plastered her body against the handle, fixated on the distant gleam of the tiny ball. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to reach it, to catch it before it was too late…_

Lost in his agony, Bill was dimly aware of hands trying to prise him away from their bodies. Lashing out without thought, his fist connected with something soft. With an explosive exhalation, the hands fell away, only to be replaced with others. Soft, urgent voices spoke soothingly to him, urging him to let go, to let others take care of them. Bill shook his head stubbornly, whispering, "Help me," over and over, heedless of their reply…

_Cresting the brow of a low hill at breakneck speed, Ginny yanked the broom into a vertical climb to avoid a large willow tree. Branches snagged her clothes, reaching out eagerly to slow her down. Gritting her teeth she pulled back harder, and rocketed high into the darkening sky…_

A familiar voice dragged at the corner of Bill's conscious mind. He tried to block it out, but the voice was insistent – stubborn. Lifting his head unwillingly, his vision, blurred by tears, settled onto the outline of a beautiful young woman, long silvery-blond hair cascading downwards. Her lips were moving quickly, and Bill focused on them, willing the words to make sense…

_Rapidly gaining altitude, Ginny slammed the broom hard over into a half-roll, pulling back savagely to tighten the angle of climb until the broom slowed, staggered in the air, then plummeted towards the ground. Fighting to regain control, Ginny watched helplessly as the grass rushed towards her. The broom was bucking, trying to throw her off, but she clung on grimly and pulled up with all her strength, desperate to pull out of the dive in time…_

Bill was aware of a warm arm draped over his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace with surprising strength. Head down, he stared uncomprehendingly at the dark splotches that stained his jeans, tracing a pattern between them with one finger. A hand rubbed gently at the back of his neck and he straightened up, realising that he was now sat in a chair, and that Harry and Ginny were gone…

_Arms aching with the effort, Ginny let out an involuntary whoop as the broom finally submitted to her control, levelling out with inches to spare. As the broom lumbered back into the sky, she turned into a wide figure of eight pattern, eyes darting around, desperate to catch sight of the precious golden ball…_

Bill staggered to his feet, aware that the person at his side had gone with him, never letting go. "Wha-" he began, then stopped, startled by the hoarse, cracked sound. A cool glass of water was pressed into his hand and he drank greedily, relishing the soothing sensation on his parched throat. "T-Thanks," he managed, finally looking round at his comforter. Fleur's soulful, expressive eyes looked back at him, red-rimmed and full of pain. Bill's heart lurched. "How are they?" he croaked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer…

_The light was fading fast, and Ginny knew that her time was running out. If she didn't catch sight of it now, all would be lost. She could not – would not, let that happen. A streak of movement caught her attention and her heart leapt. There! Flying in aimless circles towards the forest, the tiny speck of gold was in danger of becoming lost amongst the trees. Kicking the tired broom into motion, Ginny sped after it…_

Bill pressed his forehead against the cool glass partition, eyes roving unseeingly over the two still bodies lying on separate beds. Even after all this time, it didn't seem right to his numbed brain that they would be divided like this, when they refused to be in life. Glancing around at the darkened corridor, he took in the slumped figures of his family fitfully sleeping on lumpy chairs. Pushing the door open, he silently entered the room, drawing his wand…

_The wind roared deafeningly as the broom, pushed beyond its wildest imaginings, rocketed through the air at suicidal speeds. Ginny felt tears streaming from her face, unsure if they were due to the wind or the desperate fear she felt at losing this race. A sudden burst of acceleration rocked her backwards and she felt a wave of exhilaration wash over her as she finally began to gain on her target…_

The faintest smile of satisfaction curled the corner of Bill's lips into the lopsided grimace that was the legacy of the injuries he had sustained at the claws of the werewolf. Fleur's strong hand slipped into his, and she stood at his side as they surveyed the results of his work. Where there had been two beds, one large four-poster bed took up most of the available space. Lying immobile under the sheets, Harry and Ginny looked even more like they were merely sleeping, and Bill felt his throat tightening at the sight…

_The open grass was rapidly giving way to small clumps of bushes and shrubs, and Ginny dodged them at high speed, her whole attention focused on the nimble object in front of her. Now that she was closer, she could tell that it was a Golden Snitch, its feathery wings blurred with motion as it strove to evade her grasp. Ginny's lips drew back, exposing her teeth in a wild, feral grin as she felt a growing sense of certainty that this tiny ball would be hers…_

A low, throaty voice whispered tenderly in Bill's ear, the soft breath raising the hairs on his neck. "Let me do something, my love," murmured Fleur, squeezing his hand before letting it go. Stepping gracefully towards the bed, she moved round to stand next to Ginny, brushing the red hair away from the pale face lying silent and still on the pillow. Moving to stand beside her, Bill watched as Fleur slid onto the bed, slowly lifting Ginny's unresisting arm and looping one arm under her limp body…

_A warm, comforting sensation enveloped Ginny, making her gasp out loud. She felt invigorated and more determined than ever not to give up. She found herself muttering inarticulate words of encouragement to the battered broom, and felt it respond like a racehorse, surging forward with renewed vigour. For a moment, she felt sure that the contest was won, before she looked ahead to see the tall trees of the forest looming up ahead. She was out of time…_

"We should have done this weeks ago," muttered Bill, angry with himself for his inaction. Fleur said nothing, but carefully turned Ginny's body towards Harry's, bringing them closer together. From the other side of the bed, Bill managed to push Harry's heavier weight towards the centre, closing the gap between their limp bodies…

_The Snitch was cutting in and out of sight between the outlying trees of the forest. If it got into the deep forest, she would never find it. And yet – and yet – she had the strangest sensation of being able to feel where it was emanating from within her chest. An invisible cord seemed to connect her with the tiny Snitch, tugging at her heart. This way, through this stand of trees, cutting the distance in half, anticipating each move before it was made – her heart whispered quiet instructions, and she obeyed unhesitatingly…_

"There," grunted Bill in satisfaction as the younger couple lay more naturally, Ginny's head resting on Harry's shoulder, her body turned towards his. Fleur cocked her head on one side, regarding the pose critically. "Not quite," she muttered. "Something is not quite right…" Her voice trailed off, and Bill looked at her in puzzlement. Fleur's head snapped up, and her eyes sparkled. "Got it!" she crowed, leaning across Ginny again. Taking Ginny's tiny hand in hers, she pulled it across the small witch's body, sliding it over Harry's chest until it rested over his heart…

_Ginny's whole body strained forward, her hand reaching out, desperately seeking purchase on the Snitch which danced just out of reach. She was so close, so very close…_

Arm tucked round her waist, Bill stood silently with Fleur for a long moment before tugging at her body, aware of the lateness of the hour. Reluctantly, they moved to the door. Fleur looked over her shoulder, eyes glistening, and whispered, "Good night, brave Harry. Sleep well, sweet Ginny." Burying her head in Bill's chest, they hurried down the dark corridor, careful not to wake their sleeping family.

The door shut firmly behind them, sending faint vibrations through the heavy wooden bed. Ginny's hand, carefully placed on Harry's chest, was shifted slightly by the motion, the fingers slipping between the buttons of his pyjamas and coming into contact with his bare skin…

_The feathery wings beat frantically against Ginny's closing fingers, desperately trying to escape, even at the last. As her hand gripped more firmly, the wings, seeming to recognise her touch, fell still, and the tiny Snitch fell captive in her warm fist…_

In the dark corridor, Molly Weasley's sleeping face was momentarily illuminated by a brief, intense blaze of light. She stirred uneasily, but subsided into a troubled sleep again, fitful dreams of love and loss plaguing her subconscious mind…

_Spiralling into the sky, evading the clutches of the dark forest beneath, Ginny was overwhelmed with a sense of completion. Memories flooded back to her, and she loosened her grip to gaze in wonderment at the object within. A tiny, glowing ball of energy was nestled within, and she gasped in recognition. _

_Clutching it tightly to her chest, she rose higher into the sky, aiming for a break in the clouds where a bright beam of light speared through. Bathed in the soft light, she spoke for the first time. "I'm coming for you, sweetheart." She looked down again at the precious cargo gently held in her grasp. "I'll always come for you." With a final burst of speed, she lifted the broom higher, piercing the clouds and becoming one with the light…_

Harry's body shot up, a low, choking sound rattling through his chest as his lungs greedily sucked in air. His eyes flicked open, disorientated at the unfamiliar surroundings. His hands scrabbled at his chest, ripping the buttons open to check the skin beneath. Feeling the rapid thumping of his heart, his body sagged with relief, a quiet sob escaping from his lips.

A soft murmured response from beside him galvanised his attention. Gazing down uncomprehendingly, he looked into Ginny's warm, brown eyes as if he were drawing life from them. Ginny curled closer to him, her voice furred with sleep. "S'okay, Harry," she muttered drowsily. "Just a dream, tha's all." Willingly giving in to her clinging embrace, Harry sank into her arms, a long-overdue desire for natural, rejuvenating sleep overtaking him. He let his confused thoughts drift away as he inhaled the heady, familiar scent of Ginny's hair and felt her arms tightening protectively around him as they fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Bill's footsteps echoed dully on the highly polished marble as he made the now familiar journey towards the private ward at St Mungo's. He didn't need to look where he was going – his feet had long since memorised the route. On the distant shores of his consciousness, he was dimly aware of people staring and whispering as he strode past. They didn't count, so he ignored them. Not much counted nowadays, it seemed. To have come so far, paid the full cost of war with the blood of his kin only to lose the two youngest family members at the last had ripped the heart out of the Weasley clan. They still functioned, still dutifully carried out the charade of daily existence, but they were the mindless actions of Inferi. In most ways that counted, none of them had really survived the war.

In his darkest moments, there were times when he envied those who had actually died.

The echoing of his steady footsteps was muffled as he turned the last corner and onto the carpeted floor of the private ward. The guard at the door snapped to attention and held the door open for him. Bill managed to acknowledge the man with a jerky nod, then his gaze shifted to the two chairs that faced the glass partition he had grown to hate. As he closed the distance to the lone figure sat watching him approach, the harsh lines of his face softened somewhat. Even in the midst of the barren landscape their lives had become, there were still a few oases of hope to shelter in.

Fleur Weasley regarded him steadily, her eyes, still beautiful, fixed on his. He sat down beside her heavily, passing over the cooling tea and taking a sip from his own paper cup. He winced, looking down wearily at the contents of the cup.

"As good as ever," Fleur said softly, placing the cup down on the low table at her side. Bill shrugged, but said nothing. She didn't need him to. They both knew that he could have easily conjured up a drink without leaving his seat, but it gave him something to do, and she was grateful for that.

He drained the cup, ignoring the bitter taste, and crumpled the cup in his hand. Without looking, he flung it away from him, hearing it fall neatly in the bin to his right. Leaning forward, he gazed at the dim outline of his reflection in the glass partition, and spoke quietly.

"How was Mum?"

Fleur turned her head towards him and sighed, her warm breath tickling his ear. "The same. Worse. I don't know." She rubbed his back gently, leaning closer to him. "She claimed to have slept well, but-" Her voice trailed off, and her hand clasped over his shoulder.

Bill grunted, and reached up to momentarily cover her hand with his own, before stretching his long legs and getting to his feet. Crossing to the hated window, he cupped a hand over his eyes, peering into the dimly lit room. He could make out the twin shadows of Harry and Ginny's bodies, just visible in the early dawn light. Harry's larger form was easier to make out, as he lay curled around-

He frowned. "Fleur," he said curiously, "Why did you move them again?"

Fleur, lost in her own thoughts, looked startled as he turned to her. "What do you mean?"

He looked back through the glass, his forehead pressed against the cool barrier as he strained to make out more details. Without turning, he replied. "You moved them again this morning, right? Why bother again so soon?"

There was a short scrape as she pushed the chair back, joining him at the window. "I didn't Bill, what are you talking-" Her voice cut off abruptly. She met his puzzled gaze, their eyes widening.

In all the time they had lain there, Harry and Ginny had never moved.

Bill pushed himself away from the glass, still staring at her. His heart began to beat harder, but he ignored it. "Mum must have done it," he said flatly, his voice careful to betray no emotion.

Fleur looked at him dazedly. "She never goes in there. She can't. You know that."

He nodded absently. "Right."

There was a moment of silence, then they bolted for the door as one. He flung it open and Fleur, ducking under his arm, darted past. They skidded to a halt by the large bed they had Transfigured only last night, staring in disbelief.

Their positions almost reversed from the careful tableau Fleur had created, Harry lay curled behind Ginny, one arm tight around her waist. Her face was hidden from view behind the thick mass of her tousled hair. Bill stared dumbly. Tousled. But that was impossible. Ginny didn't move. Neither of them moved.

His hand shook wildly as he reached out tentatively towards his sister's shoulder. He stopped and drew back his hand. "No," he said hoarsely, his red-rrimmed eyes brimming over. "No."

Fleur captured his rough hand in her own, much smaller one, pushing it gently to one side. She took a tiny step towards the bed, followed by another. With Bill watching on, not daring to breathe, she leaned over and softly shook Ginny's shoulder.

Nothing.

She tried again, slightly harder.

Nothing.

Bill's shoulder's shook as he exhaled explosively, the sobs building deep in his throat. He began to back away, crumpling in on himself.

He stopped. Stared. Looked away, blinking hard, then back again. It couldn't be true, he thought distantly. It just could not be true.

The mass of red hair shifted, then lifted, one pale hand irritably pushing it back. Her head turning, Ginny glared up groggily at Fleur, whose hand seemed to be incapable of leaving her shoulder.

"Wha – what time d'you call this?"

His legs buckling, Bill Weasley slid gracelessly to the floor, silent tears staining his face as he gazed, without speaking, at the sleepy and grumpy face of his little sister. Behind her, Harry stirred, mumbling inarticulately.

Fleur, her own eyes overflowing, flung her arms around the younger girl, clutching at her desperately

"G'd to see you too, Fleur," Ginny mumbled, sleepily patting her sister-in-law's back.

As Bill sobbed quietly on the floor, still unable to utter a word, Harry's head popped up, his eyes blinking owlishly as he gazed blearily. 'Was' going on?" he asked querulously, no more than half-awake.

"Dunno," replied Ginny, yawning widely. She snuggled deeper into the pillows, one arm still looped around Fleur's shaking body.

Harry snorted sleepily. "Mental, your family are." His arm tightened around Ginny's waist, and his eyes slid shut.

From his position on the floor, Bill began to laugh.

He didn't think he would ever stop.


End file.
